Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 23: Born Actor

The entire set fell silent, not because quiet was necessary for the ongoing shoot, but because they could keenly feel the power of the performance, pulling them into the authentic scenes of the "The Pacific" story, experiencing it firsthand and empathetically.

In the entertainment industry, there exists a certain type of person with an innate sense for the camera, effortlessly capturing its focus and presenting the most marvelous, natural, and vivid side of themselves. The camera seems to particularly favor their presence, allowing their acting charm to shine through, effortlessly touching the souls of the audience. They are called natural-born actors.

However, such talents are truly rare, unrelated to mere acting skills but rather giftedness—they always effortlessly win the favor of the camera lens as if they were the chosen ones of the divine. Examples include Marlon Brando and Audrey Hepburn.

In that brief performance just now, they once again witnessed this envy-inducing talent.

Every movement, every expression compelled one to savor it, as complex emotions danced on the tip of the tongue. That fleeting glance portrayed a myriad of sensations, even sketching out the entire character in one's mind: delicate yet stubborn, fragile yet strong, yielding yet determined. It's hard to imagine that within just five seconds, waves of astonishment were unleashed in the minds of every onlooker.

Even more astonishingly, such a performance came from a rookie, someone who, just three minutes prior, had caused the entire crew to fall into low spirits due to a rookie mistake. Yet here he was, revealing just a glimpse of the power and depth of his performance, enough to stir up a tsunami. Such a contradictory combination seemed like a joke, but it was playing out right before their eyes.

"Ah," the door was pushed open once again, and Renly returned to the set. With a slight raise of his narrow eyebrows, he revealed a curious inquiry, "So, how was the performance just now?"

Darin, standing amidst the crowd, felt a slight warmth on his cheeks. What started as a mere prank, he knew well that Renly could do nothing but eat his words—even if Renly were to criticize him, he wouldn't worry in the slightest, as the entire crew would stand by his side. Yet, the turn of events caught him off guard. He felt his cheeks burning even more intensely now, especially seeing Renly's professional and earnest gaze, which left him feeling embarrassed.

Before Darin could even realize it, he had averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact with Renly. But soon he realized his retreat—how could he shrink back in front of a newcomer? Even if he intended to assert his dominance over the rookie, so what? Such situations were common in Hollywood, yet his demeanor faltered in front of this rookie, igniting a sense of humiliation from the depths of his being.

"No problem," David, as the director, was the first to regain his composure and responded. Then the set began to buzz softly. As each person regained their senses, they all tried to make some small gestures to cover up their embarrassment. This lively atmosphere helped David regain his calm completely. "Excellent," David gave a fair assessment. In fact, the performance just now could be described as "exceptional," but it was only the first day, and he saw no need to set the bar too high, right?

Renly couldn't help but clench his fists secretly. He had finally passed the first scene smoothly. It was a good start.

David paused for a moment but couldn't contain his curiosity, "Is this your first formal performance?" As a television director for ten years, he had handled countless actors, but he had never seen such a spiritual performance.

Spirituality, something intangible yet palpable, like the delicate vulnerability Edward Norton exhibited in his debut "Primal Fear," or the apprehension and innocence Haley Joel Osment displayed under the lens of "The Sixth Sense." They made watching performances a genuine pleasure and imbued films with a unique quality.

However, such actors were more commonly found in the film industry. Television dramas were constrained by shooting schedules, market positioning, and other factors, seldom exploring the depth and complexity of acting, let alone showcasing spirituality. At least, David had never encountered it before.

Until today.

"Yes," Renly nodded affirmatively. "Before this, I only participated in theatrical performances."

David suddenly realized, "That makes sense." Beginner mistakes like the one just now were particularly common among stage actors. "Shall we continue shooting?"

"Of course," Renly replied confidently.

Acting was an intriguing endeavor for Renly. Once the "action" command was given, he entered a state of wonder. Though playing a completely different character, he interpreted it based on his own understanding and pattern. He could even feel his connection to the real world weakening while his connection to the fictional story strengthened, oscillating between reality and illusion. This chaotic zone between self and others, familiarity and strangeness, was truly exhilarating.

Renly couldn't wait to dive back into shooting.

Looking around, Renly searched for Darin's figure. The next scene required precise positioning and lighting, something the production assistant would explain.

However, Darin was nowhere to be found. Just a few minutes ago, he was standing next to the monitor, but now he seemed to have vanished from the entire set.

"Eugene," a man of small stature, wearing suspenders and looking to be around thirty, approached. "I'm Stuart, the assistant production manager. Let me explain the next scene to you." Renly redirected his gaze towards Stuart and nodded, listening attentively as he continued, "The next scene is a solo shot for you. You run out from the doorway, quickly pick up the bicycle lying on the lawn, then ride away from the mansion. Deacon will chase after you, but you leave it behind and ride off alone."

Eugene came from an affluent family, his father being a private doctor. In the 1940s, they were part of the upper class. Therefore, Eugene lived in a mansion, a traditional estate once inhabited by slave owners. Deacon was Eugene's sheepdog, his most beloved companion.

Following Stuart, Renly walked to the door, where Stuart showed him the entire path forward, the positions of the cameras, and the framing of the scene. Not content with just theoretical explanations, Renly personally got on the bicycle and rehearsed, ensuring everything was in order. He also inquired meticulously about the positions of Eugene and the other actors—whether the gardeners were busy on the lawn, the mother chasing after Eugene to call him back for dinner—they all would be visible in the frame. Renly's questions were detailed.

Stuart patiently answered all questions, giving the signal to David when everything was "ready." By now, the entire crew had been waiting for nearly five minutes.

David was not in a hurry but gave Renly enough time. After entering the shooting, he knew that his patience had been rewarded.

Eugene rushed out of the house, quickly picking up the bicycle from the lawn and hopping on it. He pedaled forcefully on the gravel path, but due to his heightened emotions, his movements seemed clumsy. His hands couldn't seem to steady themselves, and the bicycle wobbled unsteadily. However, his focused eyes showed no signs of wavering, displaying determination and resolve.

Pedal by pedal, Eugene pushed himself forward.

The uneven gravel road trapped Eugene's anger in his chest, unable to release it. His shoulders tensed up again, betraying his unease and vulnerability rather than strength. The bicycle swayed dangerously, nearly tipping over, causing his mother, who had chased after him, to clutch her heart in worry, "Eugene, dinner's ready!"

Gritting his teeth, Eugene pushed his feet down again, narrowly avoiding a fall. With the danger averted, he regained control and began to pick up speed, faster and faster. Eugene seemed to soar, his jacket fluttering lightly in the wind. His golden-brown curls were completely disheveled under the sunlight, wild and defiant, even the rays of light couldn't catch up with the ends of his hair.

"Deacon, stay back."

Eugene shouted to his faithful companion who was catching up, his narrowed eyes bathed in sunlight, tingling slightly. Then, he dashed into a gust of wind, disappearing in an instant, leaving only a corner of his jacket slowly fading away under the verdant trees.

"Genius!" That was the only thought in David's mind. It was just a simple action of riding a bike, but Renly had portrayed Eugene's surging emotions and unease vividly. It seemed that even the bicycle, the sheepdog, and the mother became part of the performance, with all elements playing a crucial role in this seamless portrayal, revealing a scene beyond imagination!

As a director, David was well aware of the three-dimensional effect of the entire scene. He knew that this scene was flawless and impeccable. Not because of the script or the camera, but because of the actor, the genius who was born to be an actor.

"Cut!" David couldn't hold back any longer. He clenched his fists and stood up, then slammed his fist into the air, releasing his inner excitement.

Such a start, such a beginning, was truly magnificent. No one could ask for more!