After entering the movie theatre, the film had already started playing its opening credits. The entire screening room was shrouded in darkness. Renly bent over and made his way to a seat near the back, casually choosing an empty spot and sitting down.
TheIllusionist was a very unique animated film. In an age where screenwriting and dialogue were becoming increasingly dull and uninspired, this film boldly returned to the essence of cinema. It had virtually no dialogue throughout; instead, it used purely the visual language of film to tell a story about dreams, loneliness, and growth. The gentle sadness and poetic quality flowed like a stream in the middle of a rainy night, moving, yet silent.
However, in today’s film market, such genuinely heartfelt and meticulously crafted works struggle to find commercial success and are becoming increasingly marginalised. Just like today, TheIllusionist was being screened at the Toronto International Film Festival, and even though the festival had a strong commercial vibe, the exchange of ideas among film lovers was still an important part. Yet, the theatre was only about two-thirds full—if this had been a regular movie screening, that would be considered a huge success, but at a film festival where most screenings were sold out, it felt somewhat lonely.
“Sorry.” Another audience member walked in, bending over to make their way to their seat. Renly moved his feet to the side to make room, but the other person still accidentally stepped on his toes and quietly apologised. Then, he sat down right next to Renly. However, just as he was settling into his seat, he accidentally sat on the armrest, pressing down on Renly’s right hand. “Sorry, really sorry.”
Renly looked up and examined the clumsy intruder. In the dim lighting, the thin, long face was immediately recognisable—neatly trimmed beard, slicked-back hair… The name slipped right out of his mouth: Ryan Reynolds!
Ryan Reynolds showing up at the screening of TheIllusionist? That was jaw-droppingly unexpected. In fact, Ryan was Canadian, and as the Toronto International Film Festival was essentially his home turf, he made appearances every year to show support. Just yesterday, at the opening ceremony, he’d even made a special appearance to cheer for the musical Score:AHockeyMusical. But the thing was, a deeply artistic film like TheIllusionist didn’t really seem like Ryan’s kind of thing.
It seemed Renly had held some preconceived notions about Ryan—some unfair bias, perhaps.
Then, a critical thought suddenly flashed through Renly’s mind: Buried. Would Ryan be attending the premiere of Buried? Renly felt a mixture of excitement and nervousness. After all, Ryan had originally played the lead role in his previous life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that the original actor might now be sitting in the audience, watching and judging his performance.
That subtle sense of competition was something only Renly himself could feel, and it brought him a faint thrill. Still, he wasn’t worried about competition, and even less concerned about anyone else’s criticism. Only by constantly challenging stronger opponents could one grow more powerful. Besides, during the audition process, he had won the role over Ryan with his own talent. So, he felt confident.
Ryan was momentarily stunned, as if he hadn’t expected this. He now had time to take a good look at Renly’s face, but was a bit slow to respond. After a pause of about two seconds, he awkwardly tugged at the corner of his mouth and said, “Hey.” Then another two-second pause followed. “Sorry about earlier.”
Renly wasn’t at all surprised by Ryan’s slow reaction—after all, he was just a nobody. If not for Buried, it would be entirely normal for Ryan not to remember him. Of course, there was also another possibility: Ryan might have completely forgotten about Buried altogether. He may have come to Toronto simply to support his hometown. All of Renly’s assumptions might have just been wishful thinking, and maybe Ryan didn’t recognise him at all.
“It’s nothing,” Renly replied politely with a nod, then turned his attention back to the big screen. The Illusionist was a good film—one that needed a quiet heart to truly appreciate.
Time always flew during a good movie. Before he knew it, the film had ended. The credits began to roll slowly upward, and the theatre lights gently came on. Renly immediately stood up and offered a round of enthusiastic applause.
Even though it wasn’t his first time watching it, the emotional impact remained as strong as ever. Just like the magician in the film, such variety performers had been discarded by the times, yet the protagonist, filled with passion, tirelessly continued to perform in every venue he could find—lonely and uncelebrated, yet steadfast in preserving the last shred of sincerity and enthusiasm in his heart. It wasn’t just variety performers—so many old-school artisans, dreamers, and creators were just like that.
Renly clapped with all his might. Films like this never failed to move him deeply; that emotional resonance had never faded.
Following Renly’s lead, the rest of the audience slowly began to stand and join in the applause. The clapping grew more and more fervent, but people noticed something ironic—the theatre wasn’t even full. A film as warm and profound as The Illusionist had still been overlooked at the Toronto International Film Festival. What a bitter irony. What a quiet sadness. That subtle sense of solitude made the applause seem even louder, echoing thunderously in the theatre, lingering for a long time.
Though this wasn’t the film’s premiere and no members of the cast or crew were present—just a regular screening where viewers were free to leave when it ended—not a single person left early. The entire audience stood and clapped, and the applause lasted for over seven full minutes. Most simply and sincerely, they expressed their love for the film and their support for its creators.
“I’m really sorry—my behaviour earlier was quite rude.” A voice full of apology came from beside him. It was the third apology—a Canadian, clearly.
Renly couldn’t help but smile and turned to respond with a joke, but the moment he saw the other person’s face, he was stunned—even his composure and well-trained manners couldn’t completely hide his surprise.
Under the lights, the man’s face became clearly visible, and even the melancholy in his eyes was plainly discernible. The man beside him was not Ryan Reynolds, but Ryan Gosling—the very same Ryan Gosling who had made a name for himself with The Notebook, and went on to prove his acting chops in Half Nelson, Drive, and more.
To be honest, although both of them were named “Ryan,” their styles and vibes were vastly different. Ryan Reynolds had a more open, sunny charisma, with the handsome features of a classic leading man, charming with a hint of boyishness. Ryan Gosling, on the other hand, carried a more brooding, introspective air. His features seemed a bit smaller, and he didn’t quite fit the traditional definition of a “handsome” man.
But… Renly had still mistaken this person’s identity.
Ryan caught the subtle shift in Renly’s expression. “This movie was amazing, wasn’t it?” His voice gradually softened, and after a brief pause, he chuckled lightly and asked directly, “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?”
Renly couldn’t help but laugh, embarrassed but at the same time amused. He shook his head, hesitated for a moment, then scratched the back of his head and said honestly, “Sorry, I mistook you for someone else just now.”
Ryan was momentarily stunned, then burst out laughing. “No worries, no worries. You must’ve thought I was Ryan Reynolds, right?” He laughed heartily. “Happens all the time. A lot of people yell at me on the street: ‘I really loved you in The Proposal!’ I can only shrug and say, ‘Thanks.’”
Hearing Ryan’s relaxed tone, Renly still felt a bit awkward. “Sorry, that really was kind of rude.” If he hadn’t mistaken him for Reynolds, he probably wouldn’t have greeted him in the first place.
“If you hadn’t admitted it yourself, I would never have guessed,” Ryan said sincerely. It was true—had Renly tried to brush it off with some polite small talk, Ryan would’ve never known. It was exactly that honesty that made the moment more genuine. Looking at the smile on Renly’s face, Ryan opened his arms wide and said, “Please, don’t tell me you’re Canadian.” Given Renly’s clearly British accent, the comment was really just his way of saying, “Stop apologising already.”
Renly relaxed and laughed. “In front of a Canadian who apologises three times in a row, I wouldn’t dare claim that, or I’d be exposed in no time.” He shot back playfully, making Ryan laugh out loud. As Ryan stepped forward, clearly going in for a hug, Renly quickly raised a hand to stop him and took a step back. “I have to tell you—I’m British.”
The British don’t like hugs. In any setting, really. Especially not between strangers. Even with acquaintances, a hug typically involves just the upper body, while the lower body remains apart, a gesture of polite distance.
Ryan exaggeratedly drooped his eyebrows and mouth into a wounded expression, but while Renly was chuckling uncontrollably, Ryan stepped in and gave him a big hug anyway. “But this is Canada—when in Rome,” he said, giving Renly’s back a hearty pat. Renly was left helpless and amused.
Ryan let go quickly. Though it was clearly a joke, he didn’t take it too far.
“But you don’t actually look like Ryan Reynolds at all,” Renly asked curiously. “Why do so many people confuse the two of you? I know it’s a bit rude to ask…”
“No, not at all,” Ryan said with a cheerful shake of the head. “First of all, we’re both Canadian—you know, to Americans, all Canadians look the same.” Renly nodded seriously in agreement, which made Ryan laugh even more brightly. “Second, we’re both named Ryan. And to be fair, from certain angles, there is a bit of a resemblance.”
Renly spread his hands with a smile and said candidly, “I suppose I have no grounds to argue with that.” Ryan laughed out loud again, and then Renly changed the subject. “So, you liked the movie too?”
At this moment, the audience still hadn’t completely dispersed. Only a small number of people were gradually leaving, while more people couldn’t help but start discussing and exchanging thoughts. Although many attendees at the Toronto International Film Festival were just there for the hype, there was no shortage of seasoned film enthusiasts, and it was clear that The Illusionist had quite a few among its viewers. seaʀᴄh thё nôvelFire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.
“Yes,” Ryan nodded earnestly. “You know, there are fewer and fewer studios these days that are willing to put so much thought and care into crafting a film like this. I’m really glad I got to see it.”
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