Comedy performance

The atmosphere on the entire set was somewhat solemn. Even though today had finally arrived, and even though Renly and Seth stood together inside the restroom, listening to the explanations of the production team, and even though the camera and lighting crews had been busy for nearly two hours, conducting various tests... still, everyone found it hard to believe.

All of this was actually happening.

An Oscar nominee had skipped the award ceremony, staying in Seattle to film the scene of shaving his head. He had immersed himself too deeply in the role, both physically and mentally, engaging in a battle of wits with the media, gaining the upper hand, and even triggering a dramatically unexpected plot development. Renly Hall, just twenty-one years old, performing in a comedy.

These elements alone, no matter which two were combined, were magical enough. But now, all these factors were piled together, detonating simultaneously. Even the most far-fetched descriptions couldn't capture the shock that reverberated within them. It was reminiscent of "Pan's Labyrinth".

Especially after enduring the tumultuous waves of bombshell revelations, try to imagine this: today was the day of the Oscars. The world's attention was focused on the Kodak Theater in Los Angeles, while they were crammed inside a narrow restroom, preparing to witness Renly shave off his own hair.

Truly, it was hard to find tranquility in such a situation.

The crew members exchanged glances, doubt and disbelief evident in their eyes. "Is this real?" But upon seeing Renly engrossed in conversation with the production team, they understood that all of this was indeed real, disturbingly real, causing their hearts to quiver.

"Renly, are you sure you don't want to reconsider?" Jonathan Levine inexplicably softened his tone, arriving at a hesitant conclusion after struggling to find the right words.

His gaze fell upon Renly's chestnut-brown hair, slightly curled, elegant yet wild, outlining the contours of his face in a casual manner. But soon, all that hair would be gone, completely shaved off.

Renly raised his gaze slightly, casting a sidelong glance at Jonathan. "What if I regret it later?"

Jonathan hesitated, feeling choked. Seth, standing beside them, had a similarly terrified expression. This made the corner of Renly's mouth twitch, forming a teasing smile. "You should finish shooting this scene before I have any regrets." Renly knew he wouldn't regret it; he felt no nervousness now. "Are the camera positions all set? Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, I tested them just a moment ago," Jonathan nodded, releasing a long, tense breath.

Because this scene had only one chance for shooting, no room for errors, no possibility of a redo. In the past two hours, they had run multiple tests, ensuring they could achieve the director's desired shot without revealing the camera's position, while catering to different angles. In simple terms, their margin for error was zero.

Once they made a mistake, the consequences would be beyond imagination.

Jonathan turned his head to look at Seth, casting a questioning gaze. Seth, however, shrugged, "Believe me, I don't need any psychological preparation." Even though he and Will had experienced these moments before, seeing Renly repeating it now, coupled with real-world factors, Seth felt that his astonishment wouldn't diminish. He just needed to play his part, following Renly's performance rhythm.

As for Renly.

Jonathan and Seth both glanced at him and then fell silent. They knew Renly was trustworthy; they had no reason to worry.

"Renly, when you're ready, give me a signal," Jonathan said and then turned around, returning to his position behind the monitor. The official filming of this scene began its countdown.

Renly stood in front of the mirror, silently observing himself. His brows furrowed slightly as he puzzledly said, "I look like a mess now, don't I? Do you think someone who's gone through three rounds of chemotherapy would look this terrible? Is this exaggerating a bit too much? Or does it show how weak my body is? Should I start going to the gym?"

Seth stood by, stunned. Not only because Renly was engaging in a serious conversation with him, maintaining the persona of Adam, but also because Renly's words involved performance, not his health. Renly was concerned about whether his state aligned with the performance's reality.

Seth widened his eyes. "No one gives a damn. This movie is a pile of bullcrap. Even if it's worth eight million, it still isn't that important. Renly "Freaking" Hall, don't make me feel even more weird."

"Worth eight million of bullcrap." Renly didn't say much, just pursed his lips and nodded with meaningful implication. The sarcasm was evident, earning Seth an eye roll.

Renly looked back at the mirror. The key to this scene was humor. While the comedic aspects of "50/50" mainly centered around Seth's character, and most of it relied on dialogue buildup, the performance rhythm was quite unique. Clearly, it differed from a conventional drama.

For classically trained stage actors, comedic acting wasn't particularly different.

In the theater world, Shakespeare's four great comedies—such as "As You Like It", "A Midsummer Night's Dream", "The Merchant of Venice", and "Twelfth Night"—were undoubtedly the most well-known. However, their classification as comedies wasn't due to how hilarious they were, but because of their themes and tone of pure joy. The sheer delight in these works was uplifting.

So, in the process of stage theater, the frameworks for comedic and tragic acting were essentially the same. The difference lay in how, in comedies, actors used body language, tone, and other details to convey a sense of joyous atmosphere. The actors didn't need to make major adjustments to their acting itself.

In comparison, Italian comedy was the most unique. Generally regarded as the most profound and culturally rich form, Italian comedy often infused scripts and characters with a sense of exaggeration, absurdity, and quirkiness. This allowed actors more room for expression, cultivating their unique performance styles that starkly contrasted with tragedies.

However, this style was highly specialized and primarily suited for the stage. When placed on a movie or TV screen, it could appear forced and restless.

The comedic acting style of the theater stage didn't quite align with movies. Strictly speaking, comedic acting wasn't about control or release—it was about interpretation, about bringing forth the essence of humor. Yet, each person's way of interpreting humor was different.

Now, the reference Renly had in mind was a SNL style of dark humor.

Setting aside those imitation, quirky, and makeup-based comedic elements, what SNL excelled at was, in fact, deadpan humor. This form of humor revealed irony, mockery, and satire between the lines, creating stark disparities in comedic effects. This style bore some resemblance to British comedy films but with sharper, quirkier, and darker undertones.

Such performances had rigorous demands on small details like facial expressions, intonation, and eye contact. While appearing deadpan on the surface, the details were absurd and unrestrained. The stark contrast between apparent seriousness and unexpected humor could yield surprising laughter.

It wasn't like Charlie Chaplin's use of rich body language to create humor, nor was it like Jim Carrey's use of exaggerated facial expressions and language. It was a withdrawn mode of expression, requiring the audience to calmly appreciate it and the performer to possess ample talent.

Especially the latter. Those lacking such talent often came across as awkward and uncomfortable while delivering this kind of humor. It clashed with the script's style and the film's characteristics, much like an eyesore patch that stuck out prominently on the entire work but couldn't be peeled off, rendering it unable to reach the stature of comedy.

Wes Anderson's 2007 work "The Darjeeling Limited" and the 2009 British film "The Invention of Lying" had provided Renly with much inspiration, including the pacing, tone, and intonation of dialogue.

He needed to truly let it sink in.

He ran through the lines, flow, camera positions, dialogues, styles, and more of the entire scene in his mind. This allowed him to have an overarching framework for his performance rhythm and style. It also clarified the direction of the scene, ensuring he could nail it in one go.

However, to the rest of the crew, it meant something else entirely: Renly must be mentally preparing for shaving his head. Shaving his head! Even regular people needed immense courage for that, let alone an actor! How could it be that simple?

Seth stood by, watching the unmoving Renly, not a sound from him. His tension only grew, his mind filled with scattered thoughts. Sometimes he thought about the grandeur of the Kodak Theater at this moment, sometimes about the reporters' surrounding and chasing, sometimes about Renly's bald appearance, and sometimes about the trends in the award ceremony...

Turning his head, Seth exchanged a glance with Will and mouthed, "Are we crazy?"

Why did they think of this idea in the first place? It had seemed great before, but now it felt utterly disastrous. Yet, what was the story behind Renly, the one who agreed to this disastrous notion?

Before Will could respond, Renly's voice reached them. "Alright. I'm ready."

In the entire setting, Renly was probably the one with the least burden. He had grown completely tranquil, straightforwardly declaring.

For this scene, they had prepared for days on end, hoping to smoothly complete it without any mistakes. Every line of dialogue, every detail, was ingrained in their minds like a clear mirror. Now, what he needed to do was immerse himself in it, casting aside all distractions.

Hearing Renly's words, Jonathan felt his palms slightly dampen. His breath paused for a moment. He was more nervous than the person directly involved. After taking two deep breaths, he nodded to the assistant director standing by the side, then exhaled deeply. He waited for the assistant director's clapperboard to finish, then raised his voice, "Action!"

Extend the neck, retract the neck. Clenching his teeth, acting swiftly and decisively—this was the way to go.

But what if the performance was interrupted? This...