Hollywood: The Greatest Showman

Chapter 276: Out of the Blue

Hope wanted to close her eyes. From the moment the movie started, just three minutes in, she felt an overwhelming urge to shut them tight. The claustrophobic terror and desperate panic gripped her heart, making her want to scream. The pervasive darkness in the theater was like a suffocating tide, encasing her completely, leaving only the screen's cold, faint light glowing dimly, amplifying the immersive realism to its maximum. Her pulse matched the rhythm of Paul's on the screen, the suffocating tension rushing in like a flood.

Yet, Hope didn't want to close her eyes. Even blinking felt like a luxury. Every frame radiated a powerful sense of reality and shock, holding her emotions captive, unable to relax for even a second.

In a daze, she even forgot that the man on the screen was Renly. He was just an ordinary man trapped in a hopeless situation, struggling desperately to survive. It could have been Paul Conroy, or it could have been anyone in the audience. The intense survival instinct pierced through the barrier of the screen, seeping into her veins, making her feel every moment.

The entire viewing experience was too brutal, too intense, too relentless—more thrilling than a rollercoaster.

When Paul finished recording his will and quietly watched the flame on his chest, his expression was peaceful and serene, as if he were lying on a pile of soft pillows, holding a cup of hot milk, surrounded by snacks, with the laughter of children and the nagging of his wife in the background, basking in the lazy afternoon sunshine, savoring this fleeting moment of relaxation, this rare luxury.

Finally, Hope couldn't hold back any longer. She covered her mouth, tears welling up in her eyes, staring at the screen, lost and overwhelmed.

They often saw such news on TV or in the newspapers—"Armed conflict in Iraq results in three soldiers dead, seventeen injured during a firefight," or "A civilian kidnapped in Afghanistan, with a ransom of ten million dollars demanded, but the White House refuses to negotiate with terrorists..."

Every time they saw such news, they felt a pang of sadness, a surge of emotion, even anger, demanding justice for the victims. But more often than not, they just sighed and moved on because it was so far removed from their own lives, just another stranger, another story too distant to fully comprehend.

But now, through the big screen, they clearly witnessed the process of "death," the process of "kidnapping," watching helplessly as someone walked step by step toward the end of life. It was even more terrifying than electrocution, as if their own hands were stained with blood, as if they themselves were trapped in that situation.

That deep, soul-shaking impact culminated in Paul Conroy's calm yet subtly happy smile, shattering every psychological defense of the audience with ease.

"He will be saved, right? He should be saved, right? He must be saved, right? This is a movie, isn't it? A Hollywood movie? In Hollywood films, the main theme is always about hope, and the ending is always a happy one, celebrating heroism. The White House always manages to save the day at the last moment, restoring the grandeur of the American image, right?"

For the first time, Hope longed for a cliché, a cheesy, predictable, happy ending. This belief was the only thing keeping her watching, the only thing keeping her eyes open. Otherwise, it was too cruel, too unbearable to continue.

But Hope was disappointed.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

The last beam of light from the flashlight went out. The grand, tragic music stopped abruptly, and everything fell silent. The entire theater was plunged into pitch darkness. The movie ended just like that.

Hope sat there, stunned, her eyes wide open in disbelief, staring blankly at the screen. She even forgot to breathe. The tears of joy still clung to her lashes, not yet falling, but her whole body was frozen in her seat, like a porcelain doll that had lost its soul, unmoving.

There was no sound at all, as if the entire cinema had turned into a ghost town, with not a single soul left. The silence was like the icy cold of the Arctic, gradually penetrating the skin, eating away at the body's warmth, slowing the blood and heartbeat, as if life itself was gradually slipping away. This slow, deep drowning sensation was even more terrifying than despair.

The movie was over.

Yet no one in the theater stood up to leave. Everyone remained quietly seated, watching the credits roll, unable to tear their eyes away, their minds completely shut down, paralyzed.

Edith sighed deeply inside, grumbling to herself, "This guy...what kind of movie did he make? It's so gripping, there's not even a moment to breathe. I wanted to pretend to be all delicate and cuddly and snuggle up to the guy next to me, but I couldn't find a chance. It's so disappointing. He should just stick to rom-coms, show off his good looks, act all cute, maybe take off his shirt now and then to flaunt his abs. Seriously. Why put himself through so much pain?"

Edith discreetly wiped away the tears at the corner of her eye, the slight tremor of her fingers betraying her true emotions. But soon, she curled her fingers inward, hiding all her feelings. She let out a small breath, but the tightness in her chest remained, leaving her eyes momentarily unfocused, caught between the emotions of the movie and her own.

In the cover of darkness, no one noticed.

The theater lights gradually brightened. The emotions in Edith's eyes vanished in an instant, restoring her usual rebellious and proud demeanor, without a single smudge on her flawless makeup, as if the movie had never affected her at all.

Hope turned her head, looking around in confusion. Her gaze had no focus, only a blur of emptiness. Finally, she looked at her friend sitting next to her, "Bill, the movie isn't over yet, right? He's going to be saved, right? There's a post-credits scene, isn't there?"

William slumped in his seat, waves of shock still crashing over him, leaving him unable to think, struggling to breathe, as if he could feel that epic sense of extinction and desolation deep in his soul. He had never known that acting could be so simple yet so powerful, that a movie could be so simple yet so profound, that reality could be so cruel yet so hopeless...

Hearing Hope's voice, William turned his head to look at her, but his blurry focus couldn't find its target, his heart aching with sorrow.

"Hope..." Graham called out to her.

He wanted to say that the movie was over, and so was life. This is reality. Behind those heroic dreams lie countless innocent lives lost. Just like those terrorist attacks, unless someone close to you is involved, it's just a number in the news, with no real impact.

But the words got caught in his throat. Graham choked on his own saliva, and tears started to fall unexpectedly, a deep sadness welling up inside him.

A horror movie, a small-budget, small-scale one-man show, a film with a simple story and shallow meaning, had tightly gripped every viewer's heart, taking them on a rollercoaster of emotions. It was both torture and enjoyment, leaving a mixed feeling of satisfaction and abruptness that was both hated and craved.

Out of the corner of her eye, Hope noticed the exit sign light up. A staff member walked in, seemingly reminding everyone that it was time to leave. Gradually, people began to stand up, and the quiet theater finally regained a bit of its lively buzz.

"Hey, everyone's still here." The staff member called out, his ordinary words suddenly sounding like thunder in the silent theater, instantly drawing everyone's attention.

Hope looked up and saw a figure leisurely walking to the center of the theater. Her lifeless eyes suddenly sparked with light, gradually and slowly dispelling all the gloom. She brightened up entirely. It was Renly.

"Master!" Hope couldn't hold back any longer and called out loudly.

Renly froze for a moment, momentarily feeling as if he had returned to London, but he quickly realized where he was. He smiled and nodded at Hope, "I just realized that you all came specifically to watch the midnight screening. This is undoubtedly the best validation for the film. Whether you liked it or not..."

Before Renly could finish speaking, William shouted with all his might, "Liked it!" Then others started shouting as well, "Loved it!", "I'm crazy about it!", "It's so intense!", "What was that ending?", and so on. The theater buzzed with excitement.

Renly's smile widened, "I'll choose to believe you mean that. Although people always tend to say nice things when the actor is right there." His playful remark made everyone laugh. "Tonight, the director and the rest of the crew didn't come, so I'm here on behalf of the team to thank you for your support. Thank you."

This was a spontaneous gesture from Renly. He knew what the midnight screening meant, and regardless of why these viewers came, watching the film itself was a solid achievement, and that was good news for an independent film.

"'Buried' is a low-budget indie film. We didn't have much money for promotion, so I dragged the entire 'Fast & Furious 5' crew here to help spread the word. Now, it's your turn." Renly's half-joking, half-serious words were full of humor and playfulness, keeping the laughter rolling.

"There's still a bit of time before the party starts, so I can stick around for a while. Does anyone have any questions?" Renly asked tentatively, not expecting nearly every hand in the theater to shoot up, creating a spectacular sight.

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