Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 202: A Curly Fatty

Chapter 202: A Curly Fatty

The sunlight streamed down sparsely at around ten in the morning. After a light rain last night, the world had opened up, and the crisp autumn weather drove people onto the streets to enjoy the rare beautiful day. Telluride, this tiny town, was bustling with crowds, shoulder to shoulder, and the lively scene was no less than that of New York.

Another screening of "Buried" had just ended in a small theater with 170 seats, all of which were filled, leaving not a single empty spot, even for an 8 a.m. show. This low-budget film, with an investment of only three million dollars, had clearly become the darling of Telluride. The screening had just let out, and the queue for the 11:30 a.m. show had already stretched out the door, with lively discussions echoing throughout the hall. The queues rivaled those at Toronto.

Renly hadn't anticipated being directly stopped by the audience, who enthusiastically began debating right in front of him, leaving him somewhat at a loss.

"I think it's better if I leave you some space," Renly said earnestly, which momentarily stunned the two individuals, who hadn't expected such a response. But within a second, they were back to debating fervently, their heated exchange almost looking like it would escalate to blows.

Renly widened his eyes and looked at the curly-haired, chubby guy standing behind them, signaling with his eyes, 'Aren't you going to stop your friends?'

The curly-haired guy helplessly spread his hands, looking innocent. 'I tried.' He was evidently their friend, and he had been trying to interject during their argument, but to no avail. Now, facing this scene, he pointed at Renly, as if to say, 'Shouldn't you be the one to mediate?' His demeanor was assertive and unyielding.

Seeing this two-man sign language-like exchange, Rooney couldn't help but smile. However, she had no intention of getting involved, putting her hands behind her back and watching the show with amusement.

Renly noticed Rooney's gaze and the playful look in her eyes. He chuckled softly, then looked at the two red-faced individuals in front of him and waved his hand. "Stop, stop!" Instantly, the two of them, along with the curly-haired guy and Rooney, turned to look at him.

"I don't think the movie's focus is on political metaphors!" Renly gave his opinion, making one person happy and the other frustrated. Both were eager to respond, but Renly didn't give them the chance. "Paul is an ordinary person; he can't see those political heights. His only thought is to escape, to survive. All his statements are his feelings in extreme conditions. He just feels abandoned, left alone in the desert to die. So, those political metaphors are Paul's interpretation, just his interpretation. You can agree or disagree."

"But!" The two tried to interject.

Renly raised his hand to stop them and continued, "I think the real focus of the movie is telling Paul's story, which is also our story. We always think politics is too far away, as if it has nothing to do with us, just like Paul, who couldn't see the dangers of the Iraq War or the impact of political decisions on him, so he didn't care. Only when something happens to us do we realize the seriousness of the matter and start blaming everything we know. But unfortunately, not everyone gets a second chance."

His words silenced the two.

"So, what's your stance? Do you agree with Paul's view?" In the silence, the curly-haired guy suddenly asked, shifting everyone's attention. First, they looked at the curly-haired guy, then turned to Renly.

Renly studied the curly-haired guy carefully. He had a typical face, chubby cheeks with no distinct features, the kind of face that would get lost in a crowd. But his curly hair was distinctive. His "Star Wars" Millennium Falcon T-shirt revealed him as a geek, and the green tool bag slung over his shoulder made him look less like a film festival attendee and more like someone ready to fix furniture. His face constantly moved, making funny expressions reminiscent of Jack Black.

With a slight smile, Renly replied, "I believe the war was a mistake; it should never have started." He gave an answer but sidestepped the curly-haired guy's core question.

The curly-haired guy nodded thoughtfully. "You've had an elite education, haven't you?" Though phrased as a question, it was full of certainty.

For most ordinary people, they're like Paul, truly concerned about their lives and personal situations, their perspectives limited. But with higher education, one's vision expands, realizing that any entangled interest is complex and not easily judged, especially national decisions. Leaders consider the nation's interests, while individuals focus on personal interests. Collective and individual interests are inherently a complex, harmonious yet conflicting entity.

The two debaters were discussing individual interests, while Renly's answer focused on collective interests.

Renly's eyes twinkled slightly, his smile widening. "It seems my answer doesn't satisfy you."

The curly-haired guy laughed heartily. "No, I'm a pacifist too. I agree with you; the war was wrong from the start."

Though his words seemed critical and provocative, the curly-haired guy actually shared Renly's thoughts, indicating he too was likely well-educated. Thus, a simple exchange sufficed.

Rooney quickly understood, her eyes sparkling with amusement. Her grandfather owned the New York Giants, and her other grandfather founded the Pittsburgh Steelers, marking her as a true New York upper class.

But the two debaters didn't understand, seemingly unable to keep up. "So, do the political metaphors in the script ruin the story?" one persisted, still unwilling to let go. Renly, Rooney, and the curly-haired guy exchanged glances and laughed together.

"I think you could further discuss with other fans," Rooney suggested. "This is Telluride; the clash of different opinions is the most interesting part, isn't it?"

The two quickly agreed, hurriedly heading to the nearby coffee house where a lively crowd of recently released moviegoers gathered.

A moment ago, they were arguing fiercely; the next, they changed their venue. Rooney, surprised, blinked, while the curly-haired guy laughed heartily, joined by Renly and Rooney.

"Today, I came specially to watch movies, fearing the long queues and missing tickets. I didn't expect to not only see the film but also meet the lead actor. My luck is good today," the curly-haired guy said cheerfully. "I must admit, the film was a huge surprise, far exceeding my expectations." He raised his hands, clapping to express his admiration.

Renly nodded politely in thanks, then turned to Rooney. "First, accompanying a lady to watch my film twice, then meeting enthusiastic fans. It seems Telluride is my lucky place." His teasing tone included Rooney, making her smile involuntarily. "If you have no plans this afternoon, I highly recommend 'The Social Network.' It's much better than some highly praised films."

Her words made the curly-haired guy laugh again. "Are you referring to 'Buried' or some other unknown film?" Clearly, Renly was talking about "The King's Speech," and the curly-haired guy caught on immediately.

Renly spread his hands, feigning innocence. "Who knows?"

After the laughter subsided, Renly pointed across the street and kindly invited, "We're heading for breakfast before our next round of films. Will you join your friends or come with us?"

Though strangers, in Telluride, all film lovers are friends.

The curly-haired guy studied Renly, as if pondering something, his earlier briskness gone. Rooney thought he was hesitant and said, "You're welcome to join us. We're planning on pancakes if you're interested."

The curly-haired guy laughed. "No, that's not it." He waved his hand. "I'd love to join you. I was just wondering if it would be too casual or rude to invite Renly to star in my next project now. Should I wait for a more formal occasion, like contacting your agent, to show my sincerity?"

Seeing the sincerity and determination in his eyes made the situation interesting.