character

Kevin Hart is almost impossible to avoid.

The stand-up comic turned actor has spent the past decade as one of Hollywood’s most bankable and visible stars, headlining megahits like the “Jumanji” films alongside a steady output of comedies and animated features, while still selling out arena tours and releasing hit Netflix comedy specials. Off-screen, his face turns up everywhere: pitching banking apps, tequila and energy drinks.

For a long time, that kind of omnipresence carried real security in Hollywood.

In the era of artificial intelligence, though, that guarantee has begun to erode. A quick Google search for “Kevin Hart AI” turns up unofficial versions of his voice, available with a few clicks.

A series on how the AI revolution is reshaping the creative foundations of Hollywood — from storytelling and performance to production, labor and power.

That helps explain why, one evening last month on the Fox lot, the head of Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, was on an industry panel talking not about box office or release strategies but AI. Jeff Clanagan painted a picture of a landscape in which movie stardom is no longer protected by traditional channels, as attention splinters across platforms and audiences fragment. In that environment, AI can be both a risk and a lever.

“The most valuable resource right now is attention,” Clanagan told the audience of 150 studio executives, filmmakers, investors and technologists gathered at Hollywood X, an invitation-only event focused on responsible adoption of AI. “You’re competing for it everywhere — everybody is always on a second screen. That fragmentation is where the disruption is.”

Hollywood was built on the idea that a small number of stars could reliably command attention and turn it into leverage. As AI and algorithm-driven platforms reshape how attention is created and distributed, even the most recognizable names are newly exposed — not only to dilution but to the prospect of being replaced altogether.

Jeff Clanagan, right, president and chief distribution officer of Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, Hartbeat, speaking on a panel at last month’s Hollywood X event.

(Randall Michelson)

In parts of Asia, synthetic performers are no longer hypothetical. In Japan, the anime-style virtual pop star Hatsune Miku has sold out concerts and headlined festivals. In China, AI hosts run shopping streams on the video platform Douyin. And in the U.S., Lil Miquela, a computer-generated influencer created by the Los Angeles startup Brud, has amassed millions of followers and appeared in major fashion campaigns, including a Calvin Klein ad with Bella Hadid.

For studios, brands and producers, the appeal isn’t hard to see. A virtual performer doesn’t call in sick, miss a shoot or carry off-screen baggage. There’s no aging out of roles, no scheduling crunch. They don’t need trailers, negotiate contracts or arrive with riders, entourages and expense accounts in tow.

The old mythology was that a star might be discovered at Schwab’s lunch counter or in an audition room. Hollywood has always chased the “it factor.” What happens when the performer is, quite literally, an it?

That question came into sharp focus this fall with the appearance of Tilly Norwood, a photorealistic, AI-generated character that took the guise of a rising British actor, styled to read mid-20s and approachable — exactly the kind of star Hollywood is always looking for.

It landed in an industry already on edge. Hollywood was still reeling from strikes, layoffs and a prolonged contraction, with anxiety about AI simmering just below the surface. The response was immediate and visceral.

SAG-AFTRA warned that projects like Tilly risked relying on what the union called “stolen performances,” arguing that AI-generated actors draw on the work of real performers without consent or compensation, concerns that were central to the union’s 2023 strike. On a Variety podcast, Emily Blunt was shown an image of Tilly and paused. “No — are you serious? That’s an AI?” she said. “Good Lord, we’re screwed.”

SAG-AFTRA members march in one “Unity Picket” on strike day 111 at Walt Disney Studios in Burbank on Nov. 1, 2023.

(Myung J. Chun / Los Angeles Times)

Even some of Hollywood’s most tech-forward figures have drawn a line. On the press tour for his latest film, “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” James Cameron — the director who once warned of Skynet in “The Terminator” — called the idea of AI replacing actors “horrifying,” arguing that human performance would become increasingly “sacred.”

Yves Bergquist, an AI researcher who directs the AI in Media Project at the USC Entertainment Technology Center — a think tank supported by major studios and technology companies — expects AI to continue to encroach on territory once reserved solely for humans.

“Will we see AI movie stars?” Bergquist asks. “Probably.” But he draws a line between what the technology can generate and what audiences are willing to invest in emotionally.

“Prince writing his songs is a great story,” he says. “Pushing a button and making music is not. Very soon — it’s already starting — we’re going to have this us-versus-them mentality. These are the machines and we’re the humans. And we’re not the same.”

The actor that didn’t exist

“Are you allowed to speak to me from L.A.?” Eline van der Velden, the creator of Tilly Norwood, asks with a quick, nervous laugh on a video call from London — a nod to how radioactive the subject of synthetic performers has become.

The question isn’t entirely a joke. Three months ago, when Van der Velden presented her latest project at an industry conference in Zurich, it touched off one of Hollywood’s most heated debates yet over AI and performance, one that still hasn’t fully cooled.

Van der Velden, 39, came up as an actor before pivoting into production, eventually landing in London, where she founded Particle6, a digital production company known for short-form video work for broadcasters and major platforms. She was in Zurich to introduce its newest offshoot, Xicoia, an AI studio designed to build and manage original synthetic characters for entertainment, advertising and social media. “It’s not a talent agency — we’re making characters,” she says. “So it’s really like a Marvel universe studio in a way.”

Eline van der Velden, creator of the AI-constructed Tilly Norwood, at Web Summit 2025 in Lisbon, Portugal.

(Florencia Tan Jun/Sportsfile via Getty Images)

Tilly Norwood was meant to be the first and most visible example of that approach. Conceived as a recurring character with an unfolding story arc, Tilly was built to exist across short-form videos and scripted scenarios. As part of the Zurich presentation, Van der Velden screened a short satirical video titled “AI Commissioner,” introducing Tilly as a “100% AI-generated” actor — smiling on a red carpet and breaking down on a talk-show couch.

Other short videos featuring Tilly had already circulated online, including a montage placing her in familiar movie genres and a parody riffing on Sydney Sweeney’s controversial American Eagle jeans ad (“My genes are binary”). The “AI Commissioner” video itself had been posted on YouTube months earlier. By then, photorealistic synthetic characters were no longer novel and similar experiments were spreading online.

In Hollywood, it triggered an immediate backlash. Press accounts out of Zurich, amplified by Van der Velden’s remark that Tilly might soon be signed to an agent, collided with an industry already on edge about AI. Van der Velden was stunned at the intensity of the outcry: “Tilly was meant to be for entertainment,” she says. “It’s not to be taken too seriously. I think people have taken her way too seriously.”

Across the industry, working actors, already facing shrinking opportunities, recoiled at the idea of a fabricated performer potentially taking real jobs. Some called for a boycott of any agents who might take on Norwood. Speaking to The Times, SAG-AFTRA President Sean Astin demanded that the real-life actors used for AI modeling be compensated. “They need to know that it’s happening,” he said. “They need to give permission for it and they need to be bargained with.”

As the coverage ricocheted far beyond the trades and went global, the reaction escalated just as quickly. Asked when she knew Tilly had struck a nerve, Van der Velden answers matter-of-factly: “When I got the death threats. That’s when I was like, oh — this has taken a very different turn.”

Van der Velden understands why the idea of a synthetic performer unsettled people, especially in a business already raw from layoffs, strikes and contraction. “Tilly is showing what we can do with the tech at this moment in time, and that is frightening,” she says. But she argues that much of the backlash rests on fears that, in her view, haven’t yet materialized — at least not in the way people imagine them.

Tilly Norwood, an AI construct created by Particle6.

(Particle6)

“There’s a bad reputation around AI,” she says. “People try to swing all sorts of things at it, like, ‘Oh, it’s taking my job.’ Well, I don’t know of anyone whose acting job has actually been taken by AI. And Tilly certainly hasn’t taken anyone’s job.”

Union representatives argue that displacement is already occurring through subtler mechanisms: background roles increasingly filled by digital doubles, commercials replacing actors with synthetic performers and projects that never get greenlighted because AI offers a cheaper alternative. The impact shows up not in pink slips but in opportunities that vanish before auditions are ever held.

Even as the controversy grew, Van der Velden says she began hearing something else privately. Producers and executives reached out, curious about what Tilly could do, with several asking about placing the character in traditional film or television projects — offers she says she declined. “That’s not what Tilly was made for,” she says.

Van der Velden insists the character was never intended to replace actors, framing Tilly instead as part of a different creative lineage, closer to animation. “I was an actor myself — I absolutely love actors,” she says. “I love pointing a camera at a real actress. Please don’t stop casting actors. That’s not the aim of the game.”

With a background in musical theater and physics, Van der Velden spent her early career in Los Angeles acting, improvising at Upright Citizens Brigade and making YouTube sketches. An alter ego she created, Miss Holland — designed to make fun of rigid beauty standards — won an online comedy award and helped launch her career in the U.K., where she founded Particle6.

Tilly began as an exercise: Could Van der Velden design a virtual character who felt instantly familiar, the kind of approachable young woman audiences would naturally be drawn to? “It’s like building a Barbie doll,” she says, noting at one point she considered making Tilly half robot. “I had fun making her. It was a creative itch.”

She pushes back on the idea that synthetic characters are simply stitched together from parts of real people. “People think you take this actress’ eyes and nose and that actress’ mouth,” she says. “That’s not how it works at all.”

Over six months, a team of about 15 people at Particle6 worked on developing Tilly, generating more than 2,000 visual versions and testing nearly 200 names before selecting Tilly Norwood, one that fit what Van der Velden calls the “English rose” aesthetic they were looking for and wasn’t already taken. “It’s very human-led,” Van der Velden says, likening AI tools to a calculator for creatives. “You need taste. You need judgment. You still have to call the shots.”

Even as the technology advances, the uncanny valley remains a stubborn barrier. Van der Velden says Tilly has improved over the last six months, but only through sustained human steering. “It takes a lot of work to get it right,” she says.

That labor, she says, is what separates an emerging form of storytelling worth taking seriously from AI slop. “I’ve seen some genuinely amazing work coming out of AI filmmaking,” she says. “It’s a different art form but a real one.”

She sees Tilly less as a provocation than as a reflection. “She represents this moment of fear in our industry as a piece of art. But I would say to people: Don’t be fearful. We can’t wish AI away. It’s here. The question is, how do we use it positively?”

Her focus now is on what she calls Tilly’s “inside” — the personality, memory and backstory that give the character continuity over time. That interior life is being built with Particle6’s proprietary system, DeepFame, software designed to give the character memory and behavioral consistency from one appearance to the next.

“People ask me things like what her favorite food is,” Van der Velden says. “I’m not going to answer for Tilly. She has a voice of her own. I’d rather you ask her yourself — very soon.”

Hollywood fights back

While Van der Velden wishes the industry were less afraid of what AI might become, Alexandra Shannon is helping Hollywood arm itself for what’s already here.

As head of strategic development at Creative Artists Agency, one of the industry’s most powerful agencies, Shannon works with actors, filmmakers and estates trying to navigate what generative technology means for their work — and their identities.

The questions she hears tend to fall into two camps. “First is, how do I protect myself — my likeness, my voice, my work?” she says. “And then there’s the flip side: How do I engage with this, but do it safely?”

Those concerns led to the creation of the CAA Vault, a secure repository for approved digital scans of a client’s face and voice. Shannon describes it as a way to capture a likeness once, then allow performers to decide when and where it can be used — for example, in one shot created for one film. It doesn’t eliminate uncertainty, she says, but it gives talent something they’ve rarely had since AI companies entered the picture: control.

“There’s a legitimate way to work with them,” she adds. “Anything outside that isn’t authorized.”

Creative Artists Agency’s headquarters in Century City, where talent representatives are grappling with how to protect clients’ likenesses.

(Robert Gauthier / Los Angeles Times)

Those risks are no longer abstract. Unauthorized AI-generated images and videos resembling Scarlett Johansson have circulated online. Deepfake ads have falsely enlisted Tom Hanks to promote medical products. AI-generated images have placed Taylor Swift in fabricated scenarios she never endorsed. Once a likeness becomes live and responsive, Shannon says, control can erode quickly.

For all the panic around AI, Shannon rejects the idea that digital likeness will undercut human stars overnight. “It’s not about all of a sudden you can work with Brad Pitt and you can do it for a fraction of the cost,” Shannon says. “That is not where we see the market going.”

What CAA is intent on preserving, she says, isn’t just a face or a voice but the accumulated meaning of a career.

“For an individual artist, their body of work is built over years of creative decisions — what roles to take, what brands or companies to work with, and just as importantly, what roles not to do, what companies not to support,” she adds. “That body of work is a fundamental expression of who they are.”

Shannon doesn’t dispute that the tools are improving or that some AI-native personas will find an audience. But she believes their growth will sharpen, not weaken, what distinguishes human performance in the first place. “In a world where there’s this vast proliferation of AI-generated content, people will continue to crave live, shared, human-centered experiences,” she contends. “I think it’s only going to make those things more valuable.”

Not everyone is convinced the balance will tilt so neatly.

“The genie’s out of the bottle,” Christopher Travers says by phone from Atlanta, where he runs Travers Tech, advising companies and individual creators on generative video and digital-identity strategy. “There are now more than a million characters across all sorts of media, from VTubers to AI-generated performers.”

Travers got his start in generative AI with the backing of Mark Cuban, founding Virtual Humans in 2019, a startup focused on computer-generated performers and digital identities. These days, his journey would have been much easier. “It costs nearly nothing now,” he says. “And when cost drops, volume increases. There’s pressure on celebrities to keep up.”

Having watched countless virtual characters come and go, Travers wasn’t particularly impressed with Tilly Norwood herself. What mattered to him was the reaction.

“Tilly is maybe 1% of the story,” he says. “The other 99% is the worry and the fear. What it did was strike a chord. We all needed to have this conversation.”

What stardom looks like now

Few people have spent more time inside Hollywood’s old star-making system than mega-producer Jerry Bruckheimer, whose films like “Beverly Hills Cop,” “Top Gun” and “Pirates of the Caribbean” helped turn actors into global commodities.

Even amid the disruption reshaping Hollywood, he believes the industry still knows how to discover and elevate stars. “It’ll happen,” he told The Times earlier this year. “Timothée Chalamet is a star and Zendaya is a star. Glen Powell is becoming a star — we’re going to bring him up. Damson Idris is going to be a star. Now they have to be smart and make good choices on what they do. That’s up to them.”

Stellan Skarsgård as Luthen Rael in the series “Andor.”

(Des Willie / Lucasfilm Ltd.)

The industry may still know how to make stars, but keeping them there has become harder. Chalamet’s biggest box office successes, like “Wonka” and the “Dune” films, have arrived as part of franchises rather than as standalone vehicles. Powell’s latest film, last month’s remake of “The Running Man,” fell short of expectations.

Bruckheimer himself has been pragmatic about AI. During postproduction on his recent Brad Pitt–led Formula One drama, an AI-based voice-matching tool was briefly used to replicate Pitt’s voice when the actor was unavailable for looping, a demonstration of how AI can extend a star’s reach rather than replace them. “AI is only going to get more useful for people in our business,” he says.

If Hollywood has been having more difficulty launching fresh faces, it has become adept at keeping familiar ones on the screen. AI tools can smooth a face, rebuild a voice or extend a performance long after an actor might otherwise have aged out. Stardom no longer has to end with retirement — or even death.

Stellan Skarsgård, for one, is uneasy with the idea. In recent years, the veteran actor — a current Oscar front-runner for “Sentimental Value” — has been part of two of Hollywood’s most valuable franchises, playing Luthen Rael in the “Star Wars” series “Andor” and Baron Harkonnen in the “Dune” films, roles built to carry on through sequels and spinoffs.

Asked about the prospect of an AI version of himself playing those characters after he’s gone, the 75-year-old Skarsgård bristles. The question carries particular weight. Three years ago he suffered a stroke, an experience that forced a reckoning with his craft and sense of mortality.

“SAG has been very adamant — there was a strike about it,” Skarsgård says. “And I do hope it won’t be like that in the future, that it will be controlled and that money won’t have all the rights.” He pauses. “You should have rights as a person, to your own voice, your own personality.”

Those questions — about control, consent and what survives a person — moved from the abstract to the practical last month at Hollywood X on the Fox lot.

Onstage, Jeff Clanagan mentioned a documentary that Hartbeat, Kevin Hart’s entertainment company, is producing with the estate of comedian Bernie Mac, who died in 2008. Built around Mac’s own audiobook narration, the documentary will rely on authorized existing recordings, not newly generated performances, pairing traditional animation with AI-assisted imagery to visualize moments Mac had already described. Clanagan said the technology offered a faster, less expensive way to bring those scenes to life.

But that took some convincing. An Oscar-winning director attached to the project initially wanted to tell the story entirely through traditional animated reenactments. Clanagan said it took months of persuasion — including creating sample scenes to demonstrate the approach — before that resistance eased. “Once he saw it, he was converted, and now we’re doing a little bit of a hybrid,” he said.

That work, Clanagan added, has become part of the job, not just externally but inside Hartbeat as well. “Part of it is educating the talent community on what you can do and still be aligned,” he said, noting that much of the hesitation comes from fear stoked by headlines and unfamiliarity with the tools. “It’s about helping people understand the process. People are starting to believe.”

As the Hollywood X panel ended, attendees filed out of a theater named for Darryl F. Zanuck, one of the architects of the studio-era star system, then crossed the Fox lot toward a reception. Along the way, they passed by cavernous soundstages, some painted with towering murals: Marilyn Monroe in “The Seven Year Itch,” Julie Andrews in “The Sound of Music,” Bruce Willis in “Die Hard.” Faces from another era, still watching as the industry weighs what will endure.

Phil Wickham has released 14 Christian worship albums, has been Platinum certified and nominated for American Music Awards, Dove Awards, Billboard Music Awards and Grammys — but all of his vocal training and performances couldn’t prepare him to step into the shoes of one of his Biblical heroes with the upcoming animated musical film “David.”

Directed by Phil Cunningham and Brent Dawes, “David” marks the second animated film this year for Angel Studios. April’s “The King of Kings” made $60 million and is the second-highest-grossing film from the studio following “Sound of Freedom,” which made $184 million. The film hits theaters on Friday. If the release date sounds familiar, it could be because the third installment in the multibillion-dollar “Avatar” franchise, “Avatar: Fire and Ash,” is released on the same day. Presale numbers for “David” are at $15 million on 3,100 screens, but with “Avatar” tracking to open between $135 million and $165 million, and “The SpongeBob Movie: Search for SquarePants” also tracking between $13 million and $20 million, it would seem to be a true David vs. Goliaths for ticket sales.

That in itself could be daunting, but for Wickham, the biggest obstacles came long before release dates were decided. Despite playing in arenas with thousands of fans, he had a “secret dream” of voicing a character in an animated film. A character “that carried courage and faith and had some grand adventure.” But because he’d never chased that dream, he realistically put a limit on that particular goal. Even when the opportunity arose, he was hesitant when going into a casting meeting.

“I’m unoffendable. [I said to producers], if I suck, then just tell me because I don’t want to waste anybody’s time. And also, I don’t want to be bad in a movie as much as you don’t want to make a bad movie,” says Wickham.

The contemporary Christian artist, who recently finished sold-out concerts at Downey Calvary Chapel and the Wiltern, had never tried his hand at voice acting. Not only did he get the role, but he also had to help bring to (animated) life one of the most well-known stories in the Bible. The tale of David — the boy who was anointed to become the king and along the way felled the giant Philistine warrior Goliath with a rock and a slingshot — has become synonymous as the most famous of underdog representations and tests of faith in the Bible. The character and story is also one of Wickham’s favorites.

Phil Wickham always wanted to voice an animated character, especially after seeing “The Lion King.”

(Colton Dall)

“When this came across my desk, so to speak, I was just like, man, I could tell you that story, but I didn’t know if I had it in me. I didn’t know if I was a good actor. I didn’t know if I could voice a character, but I knew I wanted a shot,” said Wickham.

A curious revelation for Wickham was discovering that the singing that he’d been doing most of his life would not work on-screen, at least not for this project. He was asked to tone down things, to sometimes “talk through” lyrics and to generally make the music more dramatic for the screen.

“I thought, OK, I got this. This is why they hired me, because I’m a singer. But that ended up being the hardest part because they didn’t want me to sound like me,” Wickham said.

“Singing became a background to just being the character, which honestly, in some ways, was the hardest thing. Maybe even for my ego as as an artist.”

It was definitely a process that required lots of fine-tuning and looking at David as not just the king and hero that Wickham had grown up reading about at home and in Southern California churches. Sitting in the pews in Downey, the singer reflected on why he got into music and why Christian entertainment is on the rise.

“I found out really quick that I loved being a part of moments where people were encountering the same hope and faith that I encountered in my room alone,” Wickham said of songwriting and performing. He grew up with Christianity all around him, but has seen a spike in popularity for music and movies dealing with faith-based fandom.

“For this movie ‘David’ to come out at this time … I think that the world is looking for stuff to hope in. I think people are just searching and finding out more and more the truth that if we look around us at the world of man, we’re not going to find real solutions. So that maybe if we look up, we will.”

“Stereophonic,” David Adjmi’s heralded drama that won five Tony Awards including best play, is ready for its Los Angeles close-up.

The first national tour production, which opened Wednesday at the Hollywood Pantages Theatre, seems right at home in the music capital of the world. The play about a 1970s rock band on the brink of superstardom takes place in recording studios in Sausalito and L.A., where the Laurel Canyon vibe is never out of sight.

The visual crispness of this L.A. premiere goes a long way toward dispelling doubts that the Pantages is the wrong venue for this ensemble drama. If there’s a problem, it isn’t the cavernousness of the theater. The production, gleaming with period details on a set by David Zinn that gives us clear views into both the sound and control rooms, comfortably inhabits the performance space, at least from the perspective of a decent orchestra seat.

The play, which includes original music from Will Butler, the Grammy-winning artist formerly of Arcade Fire, has a sound every bit as robust as one of the blockbuster musicals that regularly passes through the Pantages. The songs, crushed by the actors at top volume, are Butler’s indie rock re-creation of cuts for a part-British, part-American band that bears such a striking resemblance to Fleetwood Mac that a lawsuit brought by a former sound engineer and producer of the group was eventually settled.

Adjmi, like Shakespeare, takes his inspiration where he finds it. And like the Bard, he makes his sources his own, alchemizing the material for novel ends.

The touring production of “Stereophonic” makes clear just how integral the original cast was to the success of the play.

(Julieta Cervantes)

Unfolding in 1976 and 1977, “Stereophonic” offers a fly-on-the-wall perspective of a band at a crossroads. While recording a new album top-heavy with expectations, the group falls prey to romantic conflicts and self-destructive spirals, to toxic jealousies and seething insecurities. The prospect of fame magnifies pathologies that have been intensifying over time.

Diana (Claire DeJean) is the Stevie Nicks of the band. Beautiful, achingly vulnerable and awash in lyrical talent, she is entangled in a relationship with Peter (Denver Milord), the Lindsey Buckingham of the group, who strives for musical perfection no matter the cost.

Their connection is as professionally enriching as it is personally destructive. Diana’s ambition is matched by her self-doubt. She’s susceptible to a Svengali yet doesn’t want anyone to tell her how to write her songs.

Peter, angrily competitive, can’t help resenting the natural ease of Diana’s talent, even as it’s her song from their first album that has put the band back in the spotlight. His genius is ferociously exacting while hers seems to spring naturally from her soul.

Artistically they depend on each other, but the tension between them is unsustainable. And as the play makes clear, there’s no way to keep their personal lives out of the studio.

DeJean and Milord are the most captivating performers in the ensemble. The other actors are solid but this touring production makes clear just how integral the original cast was to the success of the play.

Daniel Aukin’s production, which had its New York premiere at Playwrights Horizons in 2023 before moving to Broadway the following year, hasn’t lost its confident flow. The storytelling is lucidly laid out. But the tantalizing peculiarities of the characters have been whittled down.

The British band members suffer the worst of it. Emilie Kouatchou’s Holly moves the character away from the obvious Christine McVie reference, but her role has become vaguer and less central. Cornelius McMoyler’s Simon, the drummer and weary manager, fills the bill in every respect but gravitas, which must be in place if the character’s ultimate confrontation with Peter is to have the necessary payoff.

No one could compete with Will Brill, who won a Tony for his strung-out portrayal of Reg, a deranged innocent whose addictions and dysfunctions create farcical havoc for the band. Christopher Mowod can’t quite endow this “sad man in a blanket,” as Simon dubs his bundled-up bandmate, with the same level of fey madness that Brill was able to entertainingly supply.

These casting differences wouldn’t be worth noting if it weren’t for their impact on a play that distinguishes itself by its observational detail. Everything is just a little more obvious, including the two American sound guys bearing the brunt of the artistic temperaments running riot in the studio.

Jack Barrett’s Grover, the sound engineer who lied about his background to get the job, sands off some of the character’s rough edges in a more straightforwardly appealing version of the character than Eli Gelb’s bracing portrayal in New York. Steven Lee Johnson’s Charlie, the dorky assistant sound engineer, is an amiable weirdo, though I missed the way Andrew R. Butler played him almost like a space alien in New York.

The play has been edited, but it’s still a bit of an endurance test. Art isn’t easy for the characters or for us. But the effort isn’t in vain.

Adjmi’s overlapping dialogue and gaping silences, orchestrated in a neo-Chekhovian style, renders the invisible artistic process visible. By the end of the play, the tumultuous human drama behind creative brilliance emerges in poignant, transcendent glory.

“Saturday Night Live” hosts typically make their mark on the show, either by boosting the sketches they’re in with charm and good timing, or making a lesser kind of mark by awkwardly revealing why they aren’t right for live sketch comedy.

So what are we supposed to make of British actor Josh O’Connor, who hosted “SNL” for the first time and left almost no impression at all?

O’Connor, known for playing Prince Charles in “The Crown” and for performances in “Challengers” and the new Netflix movie, “Wake Up Dead Man: A Knives Out Mystery,” seemed game enough, but throughout most of the show, he had little opportunity to do much more than blend into sketches centered around characters he was not playing.

He played supporting parts including the Tin Man in a revamped “Wizard of Oz” sketch involving the male characters deciding they actually want a “big old thang” instead of their original wishes, a fellow student in a sketch about a 12-year-old college prodigy (Bowen Yang), Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in a Christmas characters piece that was a take on Variety’s “Actors on Actors,” and an awkward brunch attendee.

Only in a few sketches, including a “Dating Game” parody featuring Ashley Padilla as a rowdy 84-year-old contestant, a hospital sketch in which he played a bad intern, and one in which O’Connor and Ben Sherman played sensitive male strippers at a bachelorette party did he have lead roles. And they weren’t particularly memorable characters or portrayals. Only when he kissed fellow cast members at the end of sketches (Yang and Sherman) did things seem to liven up.

In fact, it felt more like a spotlight episode for Yang — who played the Wizard; the fast-talking, high-attitude Doctor Please in the hospital sketch; and the 12-year-old college student — and for musical guest Lily Allen. Allen’s scathing performances of “Sleepwalking” and “Madeline” from her new breakup-with-David Harbour album were high drama. The latter song featured a big surprise: actor Dakota Johnson spoke from behind a scrim as the titular character and then appeared next to Allen when the song ended. Another Allen song, “West End Girl,” was the subject of an entire brunch sketch in which cast members sang about their feelings to the tune of the music. Allen showed up as herself, but filling in as a waitress at their table.

It’s hard to say if the material just misfired for O’Connor or if he’s just an awkward fit for “SNL,” but unfortunately what stood out in the episode had little to do with him.

In addition to the sketches, this “SNL” episode included a Christmas-themed “Brad and His Dad” animated short.

Ready for another President Trump-centered cold open? Sorry, you got one anyway. James Austin Johnson once again aced his impression of Trump with a stream-of-conscious ramble for reporters aboard Air Force One that White House Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt (Ashley Padilla) attributed to exhaustion. “I took an Ambien and an Adderall, let’s see which one wins,” said Trump before inappropriately fixating on Leavitt’s lips and denying that affordability is a problem. “Economy is very strong,” he said, “from the billionaires all the way down to the poor millionaires.” Trump addressed attacks on Venezuelan ships, saying, “We’re doing pirate now, argh,” and promising that attacks would move from the sea to the air, leading to a visual joke of Santa Claus and his reindeer on radar being shot out of the sky.

O’Connor’s monologue focused on two things those unfamiliar with his acting should know about him: that he has a reputation as a “soft boy,” someone who embroiders, scrapbooks and gardens like an “average 65-year-old woman.” The other is that he resembles chef Linguini from the Pixar film “Ratatouille,” and though a rumor that he wanted to play the character in a live-action version was unfounded, he would very much like to play that character. “For what it’s worth,” he said, “I would kill as Linguini.”

Best sketch of the night: You ate how many nuggets this year?

Even though it’s already well-trod meme material (including an almost identical comic strip’s premise), “SNL” was still able to squeeze some juice from Spotify’s Wrapped, a year-in-review feature, which returned for another round earlier in the week. Uber Eats has a year-in-review, too, and you absolutely don’t want your significant other to see what fast food you’ve ordered and whether you’re in the top 1% of nugget eaters. If your Uber Eats age is “52 and Fat,” it may not be knowledge you wish to have. The mock commercial does a great job balancing the shame we feel about the awful foods we eat with the amount of data we could learn about those habits, if only anyone ever wanted to see that.

Also good: These kind male strippers give the best empathy hugs

A bachelorette party at a cozy cabin is interrupted by two hired male strippers, Augie and Remington (Sherman and O’Connor), who ask for consent before entering and are soon removing their cardigans to reveal another layer of cardigan. The men dance to an emo version of “Pony” before revealing that one of them has a Zohran (Mamdani) tattoo on his stomach. They give lap dances, but one of them gets overstimulated and cries. “I was just thinking about the Supreme Court,” he moans. Not the most original sketch idea, but the specific details of the characters and Padilla’s smitten reactions as the bachelorette saved the sketch from overstaying its welcome.

‘Weekend Update’ winner: Superheroes, Santa and your boss all want you to behave

Jane Wickline did a nice job with a surprisingly violent original song about stopping the biggest threat facing the world: not AI, but the grown-up child actors from “Stranger Things.” But it was Marcello Hernández who got big laughs recounting what Christmas is like for his Cuban family. It includes dealing with new boyfriends of family members pretending to be who they aren’t. “You don’t like the food, Kyle, you like having sex with my cousin!” Hernández wandered a bit, straying to talk about “Home Alone” and uncles who give unsolicited sex advice, but the heart of the segment was impressions of his father calling to encourage his son as different characters including Santa Claus, Spider-Man and his boss, Lorne Michaels.

Film fans like to lament: They don’t make them like they used to, specifically the kind of wry, life-affirming dramedies that director James L. Brooks perfected back in the 1980s and ’90s like “Terms of Endearment,” “Broadcast News” and “As Good as It Gets.” Movies of that tone and character are rare these days, so it’s worth noting when a new one comes along. But with Brooks’ latest, the deeply strange “Ella McCay,” he doesn’t make them like he used to either.

“Ella McCay” is a portrait of a lady on fire, from stress. The quirky, twitchy Ella (Emma Mackey, horrifically bewigged) is the youngest lieutenant governor in her unnamed state, an awkward policy wonk serving under her mentor, Gov. Bill Moore (Albert Brooks). When he’s tapped for the Cabinet, Ella gets the promotion that she craves, sworn in as the youngest female governor of her state, even as her family life descends into chaos. But Ella’s family life has always been chaotic, as we see in flashbacks to her teenage years, wherein our narrator describes how Ella experiences seeing other happy families — as a stab in the heart.

Our narrator is Estelle (Julie Kavner, best known as the voice of Marge Simpson), Ella’s secretary, who explains that she’s biased, claiming “I’m nuts about her.” The year, by the way, is 2008, “when we could still talk to each other.” So Brooks sets this political film in the recent past, giving a wide berth to the third rail that is MAGA. But by shrinking away from political hot buttons, he renders the whole gambit frustratingly vague and meaningless. Ella lives in the “state,” she runs afoul of the “party,” but skirting these details feels too timid. It’s clear that Ella’s politics are liberal, as she champions a bill designed to support parents and kids in early childhood (she tears up over “tooth tutors”). But why play coy with the specifics?

All Ella wants to do is run her policy meetings, but the men in her life keep getting in the way. First there’s her dad (Woody Harrelson), an inveterate philanderer who would like to make amends — in order to please his new girlfriend. Then there’s Ella’s agoraphobic brother (Spike Fearn), over whom she frets (the less said about his bizarrely tacked-on romantic entanglement with an ex-girlfriend played by Ayo Edebiri, the better). Then there’s her husband (Jack Lowden), a seemingly nice if cocky guy who suddenly starts to love the warmth of the spotlight as Ella ascends.

Again and again, Ella runs in circles trying to put out fires with these men without ever getting to her meetings or doing the job she claims she loves so much (and when she finally does get to her meeting, it’s a flop). The entire movie is about how men are always getting in the way of women’s work, but it’s not entirely clear that Brooks knows this is what his film is about, as Ella happily embarks on pointless side quests with her dad and brother and becomes embroiled in the tamest political sex scandal of all time. The real scandal here is why she entertains any of these losers at all.

It never feels like Brooks has a grasp on the material, which careens aimlessly through Ella’s harried day-to-day in a handsomely bland, serviceable style. The thread about Ella’s childhood trauma resulting from her parents’ messy relationship is lost — and was never that convincing to begin with. She has an unconventional family but her aunt Helen (Jamie Lee Curtis), who helped raise her, is a fierce protector and confidant. Their relationship is fun to watch, so why bother with all these men and their inane storylines? The only worthy one in Ella’s life is her designated security detail (Kumail Nanjiani). In another movie, they’d have a romance, some sexual tension or at least a heartfelt and wise conversation. Here, his character is denied any chance of that.

As we move from broken home to political scandal to another broken home, Ella finally realizes that a woman’s place is not in the capital, but rather in the nonprofit sector (not that she has much choice in the matter). What, exactly, is Brooks trying to say? We spend two hours watching men mess things up for Ella and then she just accepts it and moves on? Even if that message weren’t profoundly weird, dramatically it falls flat, despite Estelle trying to tie it up with a positive final message: “The opposite of trauma is hope.” Whatever that means. It’s apt that this closing phrase makes as much sense as the rest of the movie, which is to say, very little.

Katie Walsh is a Tribune News Service film critic.

We should be grateful for filmmakers who have a special artistic relationship with an actor: Akira Kurosawa with Toshiro Mifune, Martin Scorsese with Robert De Niro and, by all indications, Yorgos Lanthimos and Emma Stone. Count the Italian duo of Paolo Sorrentino and star Toni Servillo among them, a fertile partnership that began nearly 25 years ago with the director’s first film (“One Man Up”) and continues with their seventh together, the political drama “La Grazia” (“Grace”).

The wielding of power seems to be a frequent backdrop for these two, with “La Grazia” — about an Italian president facing tough decisions as he ends his term of office — marking the third time Sorrentino has asked his favorite leading man to be a head of state, following their breakthrough 2008 collaboration “Il Divo” (about Prime Minister Giulio Andreotti) and 2018’s romp about Silvio Berlusconi, “Loro.”

The difference this time is that, while the other two films centered controversial real-life figures, Servillo’s character in “La Grazia” is fictional, yet pressured to deal with contentious issues. The result is a much more somber, ruminative exploration of morality in governmental authority than the stylish violence of “Il Divo” and exploitative raunch of “Loro.”

A decade after his lush Oscar-winning bacchanal “The Great Beauty” (starring an especially great you-know-who), Sorrentino is no less drawn to pictorial beauty or arresting visuals. But there’s a grayer, graver tone to the long shadows of “La Grazia,” as if the natural, appealing gravitas of Servillo playing an important man fighting a planned obsolescence was the only palette Sorrentino and cinematographer Daria D’Antonio needed.

Servillo’s Mariano De Santis has mere months left — as a leader, that is. But besides being pushed to eat healthier and stop smoking cigarettes by his daughter Dorotea (a wonderful Anna Ferzetti), the idea of ending things isn’t entirely figurative as this austere jurist-turned-president wanders the halls of his official Roman residence, the grand Palazzo del Quirinale, wryly contemplating retirement.

He’s a widower, for one thing, whose love for his deceased wife is still deep enough to keep him jealous regarding her early infidelity with a mystery man he’s eager to identify, even as his old friend, art curator Coco (a vibrant Milvia Marigliano), stays tight-lipped about what she knows. He’s also being pushed by Dorotea, a treasured advisor who is herself a legal scholar, to consider two cases of clemency for convicted spousal killers, both with circumstances that would test any arbiter of sound legal judgment. And finally, though De Santis is a devoted Catholic, on good terms with the pope (Rufin Doh Zeyenouin), he’s grappling with signing right-to-euthanasia legislation.

You wouldn’t think a movie with such heavy topics would count as escapism. But when you consider current headlines, a thoughtful leader engaging with thorny issues from a place of psychological honesty, social integrity and fatherly love could almost count as fantasy. And Sorrentino, a dedicated sensualist, does allow himself some lighter touches, including, toward the end, a fanciful visual metaphor for a burdened man’s spirit that maybe only he could get away with.

Most assuredly, though, this is a duo of director and star once more moving in concert together, maybe not as confidently as with some previous efforts, but with a knowing intelligence. Servillo is no less than magnificent, conveying a buttoned-up statesman’s management of earned wisdom and inconvenient emotion (and, at one point, an interest in rap lyrics) with enough lessons in actorly craft to fill one of his character’s treasured law tomes. The title doesn’t just describe what’s sometimes elusive in governance. “La Grazia” is Servillo in every scene.

Have you ever wondered what movie might draw praise from Jacob Elordi and Benicio Del Toro for its cinematic reverie?

When you gather six actors from some of this year’s most acclaimed films, a thoughtful discussion about their roles and the craft is to be expected. But in kicking off The Envelope’s 2025 Oscar Actors Roundtable, the talent reminded us that they’re movie fans like the rest of us, picking the films they wish they could experience again for the first time.

“I’d like to watch ‘The Dark Knight’ again in the exact same circumstance that I watched it,” Elordi said, referring to Christopher Nolan’s dark retelling of Batman’s battle with the Joker. “I was 11 and I was with my dad. I’d been told by my mother that I wasn’t allowed to see it because there’s a horrific sequence with a pencil and a magic trick. My dad — when my mum was away — took me to the cinema to see it. I remember the first time I saw Heath [Ledger, as the Joker] onscreen and really feeling just totally moved by something.”

Then Del Toro chimed in with his pick, “Papillon,” Franklin Schaffner’s 1973 prison film starring Dustin Hoffman and Steve McQueen: “I saw it when I was a kid. We got in late in the movie, and it was a scene where they’re trying to get a gator. And they’re running around the crocodile. I’ve always really enjoyed that film.”

“And you really see Steve McQueen do more in that movie than ever before,” Elordi says. “When he starts going mad in that cell.”

Jesse Plemons is more sheepish when coughing up his selection.

“Everyone’s listing serious movies. The movie that popped into my head was ‘Nacho Libre.’ In life, some things just give you simple pleasures that aren’t necessarily elevated or high art. But that movie makes me very happy, guys.”

There was no judgment. An atmosphere of friendly sharing and mutual understanding was felt throughout the conversation, which brought together Elordi, who portrays the misunderstood and abused Creature in Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein”; Plemons, in his turn as Teddy, a conspiracy theorist who is convinced that aliens live among us in “Bugonia”; Benicio Del Toro, who plays Sergio St. Carlos, a karate sensei and revolutionary immigration activist in “One Battle After Another”; Will Arnett, who stars as Alex Novak, a middle-age suburbanite whose crumbling marriage inspires him to try stand-up comedy in “Is This Thing On?”; Wagner Moura, who portrays Marcelo Alves, a teacher trying to escape the Brazilian dictatorship in “The Secret Agent”; and Stellan Skarsgård, who plays Gustav Borg, a veteran film director and absentee father who decides to make a movie about his family in “Sentimental Value.” Read on for excerpts from our discussion.

These roles take you to intense places — emotionally, physically, mentally. But what’s the furthest you’ve gone to book a role because you really felt like it was something you were meant to play?

Moura: “Narcos” was a crazy adventure for me because I was cast to play that part that had nothing to do with me. I was a skinny Brazilian guy who didn’t speak Spanish at all. So I had to go through a very intense thing. I had to learn a language in order to play a character. That was crazy. That was the the furthest I’ve [gone] to play a part.

Plemons: Those early weeks are a lot of fun, right? The beginning. It’s like Christmas every day.

Moura: The beginning is always like, “What am I doing?” And you go to bed and go like, “Jesus Christ, this is … There’s no way I can pull this off.” At the same time, I remember going to bed and thinking, “Have I done everything I could?” And then I was like, “Yeah, go to bed. Sleep.”

Arnett: Did you ever think about quitting, about not doing it?

Moura: No. I had to go ahead and do it. That director trusted me, and he was like, “You can do it.” I didn’t want to disappoint him.

Have you gotten to that point, Will? Wanting to quit something because it felt like too much?

Arnett: All the time. Doing [“Is This Thing On?”], I felt like I was at the bottom of a mountain. Every day, I thought, “There’s no way I can do it.” I would come home and just think, “That was probably the worst day that anybody’s ever filmed a scene,” then just have to let it go.

With “Is This Thing On?,” you did a stand-up act in front of people, and they were tourists. Some of them didn’t know who you were. And you bombed a few times, right? Place me in that moment, and what does that do for your performance.

Arnett: I had them introduce me by my character name. So the people who did know who I was, we were saying that [they] thought I was probably having a midlife crisis or something, which I was, but for different reasons. I’d never done stand-up before, so going up and doing this in front of people and bombing was super vulnerable. There’s nowhere to hide, and you can’t just walk off. There was one time where I’d done a set at the Comedy Cellar, in the main room, and it was great. And went around the corner, like five minutes later, onto a different stage, with the same material, and it was dead silent. And the only person laughing was Bradley. I could see him laughing, and [I was] thinking, “Can I just walk off stage right now?” That was ego-stripping. It becomes kind of absurd. You end up kind of laughing at yourself, at the absurdity of it. It’s not out-of-body, but you separate yourself from the words as they’re coming out.

Stellan, “Sentimental Value” is, in some ways, about how the choices a parent makes in the service of their job or their art shape the lives of your children. How did it make you reflect on the choices you’ve made in your career and the impact it had on your family?

Skarsgård: I thought it had nothing to do with me. This was a good escape. But my second son, he called me and said, “You recognize yourself?” And I went, “Uh, no.” And of course I don’t recognize myself because he’s a different kind of man. He’s an old-fashioned man in a sense, a 20th century man. And I’m a 21st. [Laughs.] But it reminded me — since I stopped at the Royal Dramatic Theatre [in] 1989, I spent four months a year in front of the camera and eight months a year changing diapers and wiping asses. I don’t think I’ve been away a lot, but it made me think about, “Have you been present?” Not really. I have eight kids, which means there are eight different personalities, and some kids need a lot of attention and some don’t. You’re imperfect, but I’m sort of settled with that. My kids have to settle with it too. They’re not perfect either.

We often hear from the women who are mothers, how they balance their work with their careers. Many of you are fathers. How have you learned to navigate it?

Moura: For me, it’s the most difficult thing ever. I was thinking the other day, “What are the things that really define me as a human being?” Being a father is the strongest one, but being an artist is almost there. It’s hard because with our job, we have to travel a lot, and you’re not always able to bring your kids with you. They have school, and they have their own lives and their own things. I kind of think this is sort of an impossible perfect balance. But like Stellan said, it is what it is. And when I’m with them, I try to be with them. But being aware that, of course, there will be parts of their lives that I won’t be able to be there for them and sort of accept that.

Arnett: It’s funny, I’ve been traveling a lot doing this stuff. I’ve been back for a couple of days, but I’ve been busy. I’ve been going out all day, doing work and doing these things, and my 15-year-old said to me — I checked in on him. He’s doing his homework. I said, “How are you doing?” He said, “Good,” and he said, “I miss you.” And I was in the same place with him. I don’t even know if this is appropriate for this forum, but it really struck me. Him saying that stayed with me all day. And I woke up thinking about [that] this morning, and even this [round table], and saying, “Hey, we’re gonna have dinner tonight.” I had those moments of thinking, “Am I that guy?” Now I’m saying, “Let’s have dinner after … I gotta go do this thing.” It weighs on you. It is the most difficult balance.

Del Toro: I’ve tried to include my daughter in the process sometimes, you know? Sit her down, bounce lines with her, go see the movie when I’m done with the movie. Make her part of it too.

Jacob, so often when you’re talking to an actor, at least on my end, there’s curiosity about the research process and what you’ve had to learn to prepare for a role. But in playing the Creature in “Frankenstein,” this amalgamation of parts, your character’s really in a process of discovery. Did you have to unlearn things? How did you approach that?

Elordi: The nature of the character actually gives you an excuse to be absolutely free because he’s sort of the first man, in a lot of ways. You can really draw from everything and anything, like a smell or light, because he hasn’t felt the sun on his face. But there’s so many things that you can go back on and reconsider. A lot of the process was just closing the world off for the time of filming — not eating a cheeseburger when I wanted to eat a cheeseburger or just little stuff that made me feel Other. But strangely enough, because he’s made of so many different parts, and you get to go from being born to finding consciousness to the death of consciousness at the end, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. You can’t really miss because everything is happening to him all the time. It’s interesting because you say you want to ask someone about the process, but the process is so f— boring.

Plemons: You studied some form of Japanese dance or movement?

Elordi: Guillermo had this idea to study Butoh. It’s a movement thing, like you’re in drama school again where [the instructor]’s like, “Imagine fire in your fingertips and a hurricane in your lungs, and your foot is a steam train.” And then you walk around the room for 40 minutes … I remember being in drama school, and I had to carry a stick that was called my Intellikey for two hours. It was a piece of bamboo. And move around the room as if that stick was a part of my soul or something. Something completely f— absurd. It was a similar process to that, but it was actually helpful because I had something to apply it to that was sort of physically not so human.

Do any of you have a thing that really helped you find your way into a character? Jesse, I feel like you have gone to some dark places.

Plemons: I guess the most curious is I do dream work. There are symbols and whatnot that you are gifted with that may not make sense on a conscious level, or they may. That’s something that’s hard to talk about. Anything that makes me feel like I’m just following my curiosity and I’m not working; I’m just following some trail that I don’t necessarily know where it’s leading — it’s hard to describe because the way I like to work is where anything goes.

Elordi: You kind of know when you get onto that thing too. When a dot does connect. Something happens, then, all of a sudden, you’re six hours down this little road on this sound that you heard in a song or something like that. You also know when it’s not working. But to be conscious about it can mess it up as well, if you’re like, “I’m gonna do this kind of thing and this. And this is gonna go to this voice.”

Does the work need to feel hard in order for you to feel like you’re challenging yourself?

Skarsgård: No. [I need] to not be afraid and not to be blocked; I need to feel safe. And I need [for] everybody on the set, they want me to be good, and I feel it. Then I can be free. I’m with you [Jesse], you have to be in a state where anything is possible. I don’t do backstories for my characters, ever, because it reduces the possibilities. Then you have to follow the backstory — so he couldn’t do that. You, as an actor, say to the director, “No, my character wouldn’t do that.” “How do you know?” Your character might be more interesting than you are.

Plemons: And this thing doesn’t exist yet, this moment —

Moura: There’s no better thing than being in a scene with another actor, and you look at the other guy or the other actors, and you go, like, “This can go anywhere.” Because these other guys, or this other actor, she’s ready to do whatever, to take this wherever. This is the thing that really moves me in a scene. It’s really hard when you work with an actor or with a director that sticks with the thing that they want the scene to be, that thing they thought at home, that they prepared for, and you can’t really move into that space.

Benicio, you really know how to make a character memorable and leave a lasting impression. With Sensei Sergio and what we see onscreen, what were you working with on the page and how much came from you in collaboration with Paul [Thomas Anderson, the film’s director]?

Del Toro: I just asked questions. Paul wants to hear what the actors have to say. I just bombard him with questions. Paul was very flexible … He’s very quick, and if he likes something, he would jump on it. My character was introduced by killing someone in my dojo. So, I asked him, “OK, so I killed this guy in the dojo … I’m not gonna drive Leo anywhere. I have to get rid of the body. And we’re gonna have to clean the dojo or set it on fire. And why am I doing that?” So, from there, it evolved into, like, “We’re not killing anybody.” I approach it a little bit like that — common sense. Logic. But every character is different and every story is different, and every director is different. I’ve been in movies where you just have to find yourself in there. And those are challenging, and they make you better.

“The Secret Agent” really explores how brutal a dictatorship can be on regular people. Wagner, your character Marcelo is not trying to overthrow the government. He’s just a man who’s trying to stick with his values. Tell me about portraying a person in that situation.

Moura: The dictatorship in Brazil was from ’64 to ’85. I was born in ’76, so the echoes of the dictatorship were still there. I remember my parents speaking like [mimics whispering] because they didn’t want people to hear what were they talking about. It’s important that Brazilian cinema is going back there to look at that big scar in our country. I directed a film [2019’s “Marighella”] about a freedom fighter, a guy who wanted to overthrow the government. But this one is different. Like you said, it’s just someone who’s trying to stick with the values that he has. And I think that this is a reality in many different parts of the world, where just the fact that you are who you are makes your life difficult or puts your life in danger, just by the color of your skin or your sexual orientation. You see the dictatorship and and what a dictatorship can do, but not in a obvious way.

Do any of you read reviews?

Skarsgård: Yes, sometimes. I prefer to read the good ones.

Has there been a bad review that propelled you or motivated you or helped you?

Skarsgård: Once I read a theater review that was really bad and that pointed out a grave mistake I made in the show, so I corrected it afterwards. But otherwise —

Elordi: You took the advice?

Skarsgård: Yeah.

Arnett: I did this show for Netflix like 10 years ago, and this guy wrote this review, and I’m embarrassed to say I wrote a point-for-point rebuttal email. I sent it as a draft to Mark Chappell, my partner, and he said, “Oh, hold on. Don’t send it. I’m gonna come over. Let’s talk for a minute.” And I didn’t send it.

Plemons: I’ve got one journalist — I am not gonna say their name — but …

Arnett: Who’s got it out for you?

Plemons: In a way that wasn’t even that intense, but said it [a performance of mine] was “misguided” — which, is just like, “What?” And then I started reading more of his reviews, and everything’s “misguided” to this guy. It’s like, “What do you mean?” So, I’m trying to be less misguided.

Can I jump in with a question for anyone? Talking about that balance between preparation — in certain cases, it’s necessary — then your experience where you rethink all of that. Given the fact that we’re not machines, that on any given day there are a number of variables that influence your mood and influence your mind and influence your ability to relax and do the scene, I’ve thought a lot about that ideal baseline place of being fully relaxed and in your [element]. I wish acting teachers had told me that when I was younger, that that’s like over half of the battle. I’m curious if you have any —

Top row, from left to right: Will Arnett, Wagner Moura and Jesse Plemons. Bottom row, from left to right: Benicio Del Toro, Jacob Elordi and Stellan Skarsgård.

Skarsgård: Tips?

Plemons: No, routines or [an] approach, anything you do to get yourself into a place where you feel like you can leave the preparation and [just be].

Skarsgård: The preparation can serve that purpose. You feel that you’re doing something because it’s a f— strange business, what we’re doing. You don’t know what it is, really, but you feel that, “OK, I’ve done this preparation. I’ve done three months of baking because I’m [playing] a baker.” You feel that you’re prepared, so you feel safer. But, personally, I make sure that the set is safe. I’m first on set. I come in early and, while they’re setting up, I’m gonna see what they’re doing. I’m making sure that I know what all the sound guys, the prop guys, what they’re doing at the same time. So, I feel a part of the unit. That’s my way of feeling safe.

Plemons: Yeah, I find that too. Any time you try and block anything out, you’re missing it. I know that’s sort of a cliche, but the times when I’ve felt maybe the best, I wasn’t blacked out. I was aware of everything.

Elordi: Key to the whole thing is you practice.

Plemons: Yeah, I was looking at the DP I had.

Elordi: That’s when I feel, like, the most comfortable, is when you feel like you are in a dialogue with the operator and the lighting guard and your director, and you’re all in the scene working towards [the same thing]. It’s not like, “Everyone, shut the f— up now. I need complete silence.” Complete silences are unnerving to me on a set. It’s like you’re all trying to reach this point for cut, and then you’ve got that piece of the thing. That makes me feel comfortable when it’s technical and not actually getting lost in this thing of like, “I need complete silence. My body needs to be supple and ready.”

The actor known for playing Mr Bean and Blackadder has a gentler role this Christmas on Netflix

Iconic comedian and actor Rowan Atkinson says he is finally playing a character he doesn’t hate. Atkinson, 70, plays the role of Trevor Bingley for the second time in new Christmas Netflix series Man vs Baby.

Hapless Bingley, is supposed to have left the stressful world of housesitting for the quieter life of a school caretaker. But he ends up with a penthouse to look after for Christmas and a baby dubbed ‘Baby Jesus’ to burp after a series of mix ups.

Atkinson said: “Trevor Bingley, in his basic form, is arguably one of the nicest people I’ve ever played. Because I think most people I’ve played are sort of deeply unpleasant, really, you know, Mr. Bean is a selfish, self serving, anarchic child. Blackadder, is a sort of sarcastic and sardonic and basically negative force, I think.

“Even Johnny English is a sort of vain, sort of charmless. I think actually, Trevor has turned out to be one of my more pleasant, amenable creations. I quite like playing the nice guy which I haven’t done very often.”

Speaking at the series premiere in London, Atkinson went on to say he wouldn’t even have dinner with Mr Bean or Blackadder who would “have a sarcastic remark for everything”. Atkinson also revealed ‘Baby Jesus’, the other star of the series, is actually played by four babies, two twins for the close ups and two ‘stunt babies’ for other crawling scenes as they can only ‘work’ for 45 minutes at a time.

He joked: “There’s not much chat between takes with the co-star. But you go with the flow.”

“They are great looking, aren’t they?” He added. “I say ‘they’ because when you’re trying to use babies in film, you go for twins, and our twins were great. But, yes, you’re right – the babies are scene-stealers, that’s their very nature.

“It’s that strange thing when you’re watching a baby, because you know that they’re not acting, they’re just being themselves and reacting to the situation surrounding them. As such, they’re completely unpredictable, but also completely engaging, because you know they’re giving an inherent truth that you’re not getting from an adult performer.”

Atkinson himself is a father-of-three, having had two children – Ben and Lily – with his first wife Sunetra Sastry some times ago and a third child Isla, 8, from his current relationship with second wife Louise, who he married in 2014. And he says being a real life dad helped him for the role, despite him having to play at being terrible with a tot.

“Well, experience helps! He said. “It’s a bit like when I played Maigret for ITV a few years ago, the French detective. An important aspect of Maigret was that he smokes a pipe all the time which is an incredibly unfashionable thing to do in this day and age. But it wasn’t unfashionable or uncommon in the 1950s which is when the drama was set and also when I was a student – that’s a terrible admission!

“And it’s the same thing with holding a baby. If you’ve done it in real life, you look realistic doing it on screen. I’m pretty comfortable holding a baby.”

The series launches today(THURS) and whilst there are no plans yet for a third season, as this caper follows Man vs Bee from 2022 with the same lead character, it seems like a possibility. Atkinson won’t be making the decision based on any reviews though or critical acclaim, as he only cares it viewers like it as family entertainment this Christmas.

Sounding bullish he said: “I haven’t read a review or critique of anything I’ve done since the 20th century so I don’t know what reviewers, pundits and critics think of what I do, because the only thing that interests me is how many people watch this, and would they like to watch more? That’s the litmus test, and the sign of success, to me.”

* Four part series Man vs Baby launches on Netflix on Thursday December 11.

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Fans of the BBC soap EastEnders are fearful for a ‘vulnerable’ character as a desperate Sam Mitchell appears to target him for money as part of her ‘manipulative’ scheming

EastEnders fans are worried for a ‘vulnerable’ character after some scenes between him and a desperate Sam Mitchell suggest he will be the next target of her manipulative ploy for money.

In Tuesday’s episode (9 December), Sam was caught at the train station by her ex Jack Branning and revealed she found a lump and believes she has breast cancer.

As such, she had taken £20,000 from her brother Phil to pay for a flight back to Spain and to put into an account for her son Ricky. But, whilst she was at the station, Phil, who had learned of the theft from his friend Nigel Bates, caught up with her and took the money back.

READ MORE: EastEnders legend supported by co-stars after announcing major life updateREAD MORE: EastEnders fans ‘devastated’ as plot twist revealed amid sad Mitchell scenes

She also tried to convince Jack and Denise Fox to give her the money, telling Denise that she would get a doctor’s appointment about the lump if she and Jack agreed to send her the money.

Denise told Sam she would do it, but refused to until she had been to an appointment with Sam to make sure she kept up her end of the bargain. Unbeknownst to Sam, Denise has her own plans to trick the Mitchell woman into leaving without a penny.

Meanwhile, Sam had to beg Phil to let her crash on his couch. It was there that she got talking to Nigel. During Monday’s episode, Sam was caught going through Phil’s safe by Nigel, who is suffering from dementia. He let her go, as he mistook her for his daughter Clare, who he is estranged from.

As Sam got to talking to Nigel during Tuesday’s episode, he still believed she was Clare and told her that he had some money saved up that she could have. Sam sneakily smiled just as the duff duffs rang out.

Fans are convinced Sam will manipulate Nigel, exploiting his dementia and sending her scheming ways to a new low. One wrote online: “I know Sam’s always been a scheming character but scamming a man with dementia out of money would be very low even for her.”

Another added: “Oh no, Sam’s going to manipulate Nigel for money.” Meanwhile, another warned Sam not to do it: “Oooh Sam don’t do it girl.”

Many pointed out that Nigel’s illness makes him vulnerable and hoped Sam would not exploit it. One added that they would be sick if Sam targeted Nigel: “If I have to watch Sam Mitchell scam Nigel and steal his money by exploiting his dementia then I will physically vomit.”

Another said: “Tonight’s Duff Duff! If Sam steals off a vulnerable Nigel I swear to god…” And a third simply said: “Oh Sam better not scam Nigel. I don’t like that look on her face.”

Sam returned at the beginning of December after three years away. She is just one of several returns to the Square since Ben Wadey took over as the showrunner. Since September, Zoe Slater has returned, as has Max Branning, who will make a proper return later this month and feature heavily in the New Years episode.

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