Hollywood: The Greatest Showman - Chapter 257: Extras

Chapter 257: Extras

Renly looked around, trying to find a place to sit and slowly go through the script. But that was clearly not an easy task.

The Burbank studio lot is divided into various company zones, with corresponding coffee shops and restaurants in each area to serve the crew members, making jobs there highly sought after. However, Universal Studios is different; it’s primarily a tourist area. Visitors can’t be completely separated from the set, so there aren’t any public rest areas near the sound stages.

In Renly’s current field of view, there’s a straight road with some props and boxes stacked on either side, covered with gray waterproof tarps. White lines mark the parking area—now empty, with no place to sit and rest, not even a spot to stand out of the sun.

Of course, for top stars, they can request luxury trailers from the crew, resting comfortably inside without worrying about being mobbed by fans or sun exposure.

Clearly, this is exactly what the prankster hoped to see: a no-win situation. Going back might delay filming, staying would be embarrassing—Renly was pushed into an incredibly awkward position.

Whoever is behind this prank, Renly has to admit, it’s a clever move.

Nathan opened the back door, took out the script from his backpack, but after thinking about it, still felt unsettled. Why would anyone target Renly like this? Why would anyone want to play a prank? And why doesn’t Renly seem angry at all?

“Renly! I think we should tell Andy about this!” Nathan was getting more and more worked up, unsure of how to handle it. His first thought was to ask Andy for help. He took out the script and slammed the car door shut, but the rest of his words got stuck in his throat—

Renly was sitting on the car’s hood, his head tilted back, basking in the warm morning sun. The gentle breeze ruffled his short hair, making him look relaxed and content.

“Go ahead, call him now,” Renly said casually upon hearing the suggestion.

Back on the set of “The Pacific,” without an agent, Renly handled everything himself. Now, with an agent, it made sense to make full use of him, especially since this incident involved two production assistants, and it would be more appropriate for the agent to handle it.

Seeing Renly’s relaxed demeanor, Nathan was fuming inside. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t help but ask, “Renly, aren’t you angry?”

“Of course I’m angry; I’m not Jesus. I can’t silently endure the hardships others throw at me and then forgive them with an open heart.” Renly’s humorous words mixed sarcasm with ease, and Nathan couldn’t help but smile, “But being angry doesn’t mean losing control. I think that’s exactly what the prankster wants: for me to lose control and blow things up, offending the whole crew in the process—that would be a real mess.”

“So… we’re just letting this go?” Nathan’s smile faded, still unable to swallow his anger.

Renly’s expression suddenly turned serious. “Of course not. That’s why you should call Andy right now. I mean, now! Also, give me the script.”

Nathan quickly handed over the script to Renly, took out his phone, and dialed Andy’s number. But to avoid disturbing Renly’s reading, he walked off to the side.

Renly lowered his head and started flipping through the script. Originally neat and tidy, the script now had all sorts of colored sticky notes on the sides. Pulling on a sticky note would reveal the page’s content, with Renly’s parts and lines highlighted in yellow, all laid out clearly.

These notes were prepared by Nathan beforehand, and the script Renly received on the first day was already like this.

The script for “Fast Five” was different from any other he’d worked on before. Renly didn’t need to delve into every line or scene since there wasn’t much to analyze, and the content wasn’t very profound. Renly developed a concept and positioning for Hobbs’ character and found his style—once that groundwork was done, the rest was up to improvisation.

Still, Renly was enthusiastic about reviewing the script, partly out of an actor’s love for the script and partly out of curiosity about the movie’s construction and use of shots.

Scripts are very monotonous and flat. They can describe scenes and dialogue, but transforming the words on paper into visuals requires a director’s processing and imagination, as well as the actors’ understanding and performance.

Compared to the scripts for “Buried” and “Like Crazy,” the script for “Fast Five” seemed quite thin. This led Renly to reflect on the previous viewing experience, a process full of magic, showcasing the wonder and beauty of the film industry.

Time started to blur, the sun climbed higher, and Renly began to feel the heat. The sound of whispers reached his ears, pulling him out of the script’s narrative.

“Oh, no, he never interacts with us on set. He thinks he’s a top star and doesn’t need to talk to us.”

“But the media always portrays him as someone who gets along well with the crew, right? I know the news tends to focus on positive stories, but even the rumors in the industry say so. I thought…”

“Yes, he does get along well with the crew. He buys donuts for afternoon tea and prepares morning coffee. His assistant brings over a food cart, and the entire crew can grab some. He’s flawless at the PR stuff. But it stops at the crew; for us extras, you know how it is.”

The muttering conversation nearby carried over, with Nathan talking to an older man. They were consciously keeping their voices down, but the echo in the sound stage corridor was unavoidable. It was evident they were engrossed in their conversation.

The older man next to Nathan appeared to be in his fifties or sixties, with graying hair, somewhat balding, and a patch of shiny scalp in the middle. His wrinkled skin sagged heavily, layers of wrinkles attesting to the passage of time. His half-squinted eyes accentuated the crow’s feet at the corners. His lower lip unconsciously enveloped the upper lip, occasionally smacking his lips, with his right hand absentmindedly touching his mouth. He seemed like an old smoker.

His weathered face looked entirely nondescript, like any average middle-aged American man, possibly with a drinking problem. His life wasn’t too shabby but not too luxurious either—a type that constitutes over half of society. Yet, there was a sense of familiarity about him, reminiscent of a random stranger at the company or a security guard at a building—a familiar but hard-to-place feeling.

“So, what are you hoping for?” Renly spoke up, catching the attention of the two on the opposite steps. They abruptly stood up, surprised.

Nathan looked a bit embarrassed, thinking his conversation was too loud and disturbed Renly. After observing Renly’s smile, he felt slightly relieved.

Hearing no response, Renly repeated his question and added, “From my perspective, as an actor, his PR work is already excellent. At least his facade is flawless. So, what are you expecting?”

The older man chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just jealous of his fame, or maybe I’m jealous of everyone praising him. I can’t help but want to throw some dirt on him.” His self-deprecating words were filled with wisdom, effortlessly defusing Renly’s question.

He’s an old hand.

The older man walked up quickly, “Good morning, Renly.” He extended his right hand from a distance, his deliberate formality seeming to test Renly’s reaction, without trying to hide it. Finding it amusing, Renly smiled, “I’m Alfred Wayne, an extra actor. I have three scenes in today’s shoot, playing a bystander.”

Renly hopped off the car’s hood, adjusted his clothes, and solemnly extended his right hand to shake Alfred’s, “Good morning, I’m Renly Hall.”

This simple gesture left Alfred a bit taken aback. Respect—Renly’s actions conveyed respect, putting them on equal footing. This is what every extra actor desires.

They don’t need any condescending favors or special treatment from big stars, not even for them to remember their names—extras are too many to count, and they might not even remember each other’s names. They need just respect, a smile, a nod, or a glance—that’s all.

Alfred was talking about George Clooney earlier. He doesn’t like George, not because George offended him or because George is too perfect, but because George is a politician. Everything he does is a public display, every move filled with hypocrisy and pretense.

Call it overthinking or jealousy, but that’s the reality.

So, is Renly truly like this, or is he wearing an even more perfect mask?