Mickey (Robert Pattinson) is a disposable worker, an expendable. Not just theoretically as so many of us feel while slogging in unfulfiling jobs at the knife’s edge of a dwindling industry or for corporations who insist we are replaceable. But literally. Self-described as a ‘meat-cicle’, Mickey gives his DNA to a tech corporation sending people to space in pursuit of new planets to mine in order that he can expire and be 3D printed back out repeatedly. Need a bod to explore dangerous territory? Be a guinea pig for ruinous vaccines? Be cannon fodder? Call for Mickey. And when he dies from pox, freezing, internal bleeding, fire – just print out the next version.
Warner Bros. PicturesWarner Bros. Pictures
Running from debt and misery on earth, Mickey’s happy to trade Xeroxing himself for a trip to a possibly better life, or lives. But once on a space ship with a despotic, narcissistic politician/CEO (Mark Ruffalo) and his sauce-cooking wife (Toni Collette), he discovers love with Nasha (Naomi Ackie) and that being the lowest lifeforce on the crew is a bummer. Each time he regenerates he remembers his previous lives (and deaths) which builds up to an existential crisis. And when Mickey 18 is printed out when Mickey 17 isn’t expired, all hell breaks loose…
Warner Bros. Pictures
Bong Joon-Ho’s follow up to awards darling, Parasite, boasts the same anarchic mischief – and then some. Sharing more tonal and bonkers DNA with Okja than his Oscar-scooping film, Mickey 17 is frequently funny, odd and disquieting. And it works both as a daft comedy as well as a pertinent anti-capitalist, pro-environmental battle cry against colonialism and blindly following self-serving leaders who operate on social channels (Ruffalo’s boss communicates via a TV show and his supporters wear red baseball hats). It’s a film that gives Nasha a healthy sex drive without repercussion, makes audiences care about weird ice monsters that look like the lovechild of a hairy buffalo and a woodlouse, and allows Pattinson to go for broke with a characterisation that leans hard into his preference for playing oddballs. With his Marmite idiolect, nervy body language and low-energy demeanour, Mickey is a hoot – even when he’s flopping out of a printing machine, forgotten by operators, and slopping onto the floor like wet dough.
Warner Bros. Pictures
Pattinson’s physical comedy and doleful eyes are matched by Ackie’s verve and Ruffalo’s toothy cartoon fascism in a big budget (and big running time) movie that asks audiences to look at corporate greed, current politics, personal integrity and at what price we seek happiness. It’s the sort of Saturday night blockbuster that will divide audiences and might make you consider handing in your notice on Monday morning. And warns to always, always read the paperwork carefully.
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures Mickey 17 is in cinemas now
We wait ages for a film about older women challenging the patriarchal box they’ve been put in and then a slew come along at once. Where The Substance raged at societal stands of beauty and Babygirl rallied women to own their own orgasm (glass of milk or not), The Last Showgirl explores the liminal moment that women age out, lose relevance in a world driven by youth, beauty, novelty.
Roadside Attractions
Much has been made of Pamela Anderson’s ‘comeback’ as lead, playing Shelly, a sequin-clad cabaret girl whose dreams were made by becoming a star in a Las Vegas cabaret show that boasts rhinestones, feathers and boobs. Now 57, Shelly still clings to the magic she sees in her role while Vegas changes around her. The show she’s taken so much validation from is set to close (edged out by a cleaner vibe for Sin City) and as she struggles to reconnect with her daughter (Billie Lourd) she goes through a grieving process – not only for the end of a Vegas era but the close of a chapter of her life.
As she auditions for other shows and lies about her age under the glare of a bored producer (Anderson’s dated routine seems almost quaint and is strangely moving), Shelly talks through the new future that might face her with her friends; former hoofer turned casino cocktail waitress, Annette (Jamie Lee Curtis), gentle giant stage manager Eddie (Dave Bautista) and fellow dancers Jodie (Kiernan Shipka) and Mary-Ann (Brenda Song). While the two younger showgirls might continue in the business, it’s clear that Shelly’s next steps lie either in a change in direction or in following Annette into the humiliation of wearing sexy uniforms for gambling punters who don’t want to look at her in them.
Roadside AttractionsRoadside Attractions
While Anderson is a delight as Shelly – soft, gentle, beguilingly delusional – she almost loses the film to Curtis. Both women have dancing sequences that stick in the memory long after the slight, well-worn narrative has faded; Anderson a final bow of self-respecting shimmying in a spotlight that aches with yearning for the past, and Curtis, in a rageful wig-out on the casino floor. With her mahogany tan, pearl lipstick and cheap costume, Curtis puts a world of experience into her furious gyrating that the script does not afford her.
As a dreamy salute to the women who danced for Vegas, The Last Showgirl works thanks to its engaging and empathic performances. And serves as an opening act to tease what Anderson might surprise with next…
Roadside Attractions
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Roadside Attractions The Last Showgirl is in cinemas now
Photographs by Greg Williams Words by Jane Crowther
The temperatures were freezing for this year’s EE Bafta Awards at the Royal Festival Hall on London’s Southbank, but relationships were warm backstage where Greg Williams captured the festivities.
The mood was celebratory as guests flooded from the Tattinger champagne receptions on all levels of the RFH into the auditorium and found their seats – as well as their colleagues and category competition. Pamela Anderson and Demi Moore hugged and chatted front of stage while Timothée Chalamet (who’d skipped the red carpet) caught up with newlyweds Soairse Ronan and Jack Lowdon. Chalamet’s girlfriend, Kyle Jenner, talked at length with his A Complete Unknown co-star, Monica Barbaro, while Cythia Erivo and Ariane Grande whispered to each other as they held hands.
This year’s ceremony was presided over by David Tennant, who opened the show with a spirited rendition of The Proclaimers’ ‘I’m gonna be (500 Miles)’ and joked that the runner up of the Timothée Chalamet lookalike contest was sitting on the front row with his Jenner lookalike date.
Backstage, the atmosphere was convivial as Edward Berger’s Conclave took home four awards (best picture, outstanding British film, adapted screenplay and editing) and Brady Corbet’s The Brutalist won the quartet of best director, leading actor, cinematography and score. They were expected triumphs along with best supporting actress, an emotional Zoë Saldana for Emilia Perez, and supporting actor in an absent Kieran Culkin for A Real Pain.
Jack Lowden and Soairse RonanAdrian Brody and Pamela AndersonCynthia Erivo and Ariana Grande
Saldana was still tearful as she came off stage after her win – her second trip to the podium after presenting Outstanding debut with Selena Gomez to Kneecap writer-director Rich Peppiatt who joked he was in a ‘lovely sandwich’ as the actresses escorted him down the backstage steps for photographs. Aardman’s Wallace And Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl also picked up two awards that seemed uncontested in the categories of best animation and children and family film. Directors Nick Park and Merlin Crossingham juggled their clay models with their BAFTA as they exited the stage.
Ralph Fiennes and Isabella RosselliniWarick Davis and Mark HamillZoë SaldañaDavid Jonsson
Surprises came with the best actor category which pundits had thought might have gone to Ralph Fiennes on home turf but was awarded to The Brutalist’s Adrian Brody. He joked that he was ‘signing his life away’ as he signed papers allowing him to take his BAFTA mask home, before he returned to stand by a monitor to watch who won best actress. Demi Moore has had an unbeatable run during awards season for her work in The Substance, but BAFTA voted for Anora breakout – and Hollywood Authentic’s current cover star – Mikey Madison. When she arrived backstage, Brody high-fived her and the two chatted as they waited for Best Picture to be announced. Both actors’ films were nominated and both nodded and applauded when that gong went to Conclave. As the Conclave team arrived backstage, Madison congratulated them before pausing to huddle in a corner to call her delighted parents in LA.
Celia Imrie and Naomi AckieLeo WoodallChiwetel EjioforJaques Audiard
There was a Harry Potter and Star Wars reunion when Warwick Davis received his BAFTA fellowship from Potter veteran, Tom Felton. ‘You deserve it so thoroughly,’ Felton told Warwick, who played Filius Flitwick to his Malfoy, as the two hugged and exchanged news. Waiting in the wings to present best picture, Mark Hamill joined the duo – congratulating his Star Wars co-star on his achievement and kneeling for photos.
Once the ceremony was over, the catch-ups and selfies began downstairs over dinner where oversized themed lampshades loomed over a supper of vegan caviar, roast chicken and popcorn-strawberry cheesecake. Zoe Saldana and Warwick Davis chatted with their BAFTAs in hand, Kylie Jenner slipped on a jacket to talk to tablemates on the A Complete Unknown table while Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo took Wicked group snaps.
Adrian Brody
Despite a tragic fire at Chiltern Firehouse disrupting plans at the last minute, the Netflix after-party remained the post-awards place to be – moving with 48-hours notice to The Twenty-Two in Mayfair. Downstairs, Zoë Saldana and her husband hung out with Anna Kendrick as well as Demi Moore and her daughter, Scout. Jared Leto rubbed shoulders with Sophie Wilde, Colman Domingo and Ncuti Gatwa in the buzzy red lounge. Upstairs, Malachi Kirby caught up with his A Thousand Blows co-star Francis Lovehall while Orlando Bloom danced and Camilla Cabello moved among the revellers…
Mikey Madison
WINNERS:
Best Film – Conclave
Outstanding British Film – Conclave
Best Director – Brady Corbet(The Brutalist)
Outstanding Debut By By British Writer, Director Or Producer – Kneecap
Film Not In The English Language – Emilia Pérez
Best Documentary – Super/Man: The Christopher Reeve Story
Best Animated Film – Wallace and Gromit: Vengeance Most Fowl
Best Original Screenplay – A Real Pain
Best Adapted Screenplay – Conclave
Best Leading Actress – Mikey Madison(Anona)
Best Leading Actor – Adrien Brody (The Brutalist)
Best Supporting Actress – Zoe Saldaña(Emilia Pérez)
Best Supporting Actor – Kieran Culkin (A Real Pain)
Best Casting – Anora
Best Cinematography – The Brutalist
Best Editing – Conclave
Best Costume – Wicked
Best Original Score – The Brutalist (Daniel Blumberg)
Best Production Design – Wicked
Best Sound – Dune: Part Two
Best Visual Effects – Dune: Part Two
Best British Short Film – Rock, Paper, Scissors
EE Rising Star – David Jonsson
Photographs by Greg Williams Words by Jane Crowther
Yes, it released last week, but chances are – amid the Captain America and Bridget Jones fanfare – you missed this Antipodean gem that lures with wide-eyed protagonists and sucker-punches with genuine feels. Though it looks on paper like a cutesy animation, this stop-motion labour of love is not designed purely for half term nippers (it’s a 15 certificate in the UK). The memoir at its core (based on writer-director Adam Elliot’s own childhood) is from Grace (Sarah Snook), who recalls her seventies upbringing as a snail-mad Aussie kid when she was orphaned and fostered, torn away from her adored brother Gilbert (Kodi Smit-McPhee). While Grace lives with louche swingers, Gilbert lives with creepy evangelists – will the duo ever be reunited?
Madman Entertainment
As Grace tells her story to Sylvia, a pet snail, she covers heartbreaking experiences while in care that take in alcoholism, sexual abuse, bullying and cripping loneliness. Sounds grim? It could be without Elliot’s light touch – finding humour, moments of loveliness and claymation boobs (yep, did we mention it’s a 15?) amid the darkness. ‘Childhood was life’s best season,’ says Grace, ‘it never lasts, but everyone deserves one.’
Madman EntertainmentMadman Entertainment
A central light for Grace is her best friend, a quirky OAP called Pinky (voiced by Jackie Weaver) who smells of ginger and picks up the pieces that the self-absorbed foster parents don’t when they head off to a Swedish nudist colony. She’s a ray of sunshine – both in Grace’s life and in Weaver’s cheeky, delightful vocal work. Eric Bana also turns up in a small role that makes a mark. Tragi-comic but also profound, Memoir Of A Snail is bursting with character and meaning. The ugly-lovely clay creatures that people it may be experiencing unique hardship but the themes of self-acceptance and fortitude are universal. As is the idea that we are all like snails: carrying around our baggage beneath a shell of our own making, and unable to re-track on the route we have already travelled. Bleak but beautiful, it’s an ode to all the ways humans are messy and broken. There’s a reason Nick Cave cameos…
Madman Entertainment
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Madman Entertainment Memoir of a Snail is out now
It’s been 24 years since the world was introduced to the celluloid Miss Jones, an endearing hot mess (Renée Zellweger) who vacillated between two posh boys – one snooty (Colin Firth), one caddish (Hugh Grant) – as she negotiated adulting, big knickers and glasses of Chardonnay. And as is now standard for all beloved movies, Bridget has had some less successful sequels, a period of absence and now gets a real-time revisit. Like Ghostbusters, Top Gun: Maverick and Gladiator II, this legacy sequel reunites the original cast (despite Grant’s character being killed off in the previous film) and invites audiences to check in with their favourite characters at a later stage in their lives.
Universal Pictures/StudioCanal
As she noted in her first outing: It is a truth universally acknowledged that when one part of your life starts going okay, another falls spectacularly to pieces. Though Bridget happily married Mark Darcy, she’s now a single, widowed parent to two small children, four years into a crippling grief process having lost Mark (Firth touchingly appears as wish fulfilment). Her delightful Hampstead Heath house is all over the place, she’s still rubbish at cooking (burnt pasta instead of blue soup) and she pitches up at the practice of her gynecologist (Emma Thompson) with any type of ailment. But she’s muddling through with the help of friends including still-concupiscent Daniel Cleaver (‘I was dead for a bit,’ Grant shrugs) and the memories of Darcy. When concerned ‘smug marrieds’ suggest she get back into the dating game, Bridget stumbles across two possible loves: younger park ranger, the improbably-named Roxster (Leo Woodall), and ‘whistle-obsessed fascist’ teacher, Mr Wallaker (Chiwetel Ejiofor).
Like the Darcy/Cleaver love-triangle that percalates through previous movies, audiences are asked to choose for Bridget here: the doe-eyed boy who jumps into swimming pools to rescue dogs but may be emotionally immature? Or the attractively brusque teacher who understands her withdrawn son but is reserved himself? Throw in some callbacks (Bridget’s red pyjamas and her Netflix sign-in, a trip to Borough Market, Darcy’s Christmas jumper) and trademark humiliating moments (Bridget buying condoms, announcing how much sex she’s had to an audience, falling over) and it’s like no time has passed at all. But where this version of Bridget really works is leaning into unapologetic sentiment and exploring sorrow in a genuinely affecting way. Zellweger’s Bridget has always been a touchstone for women in terms of struggling to have it all, but now she’s not just juggling suitors, silly little skirts and sex. Her tussling with menopause, feelings of maternal failure and ageing hit differently, more profoundly. Combining that with Grant’s specific brand of sweet/spicy (still getting the biggest laughs with his sardonic disdain but also disarmingly vulnerable and supportive) and a tangible ache for the husband and father that is missing from the picture – and Mad About The Boy manages to equal the original film, with more emotional punch.
Universal Pictures/StudioCanal
Zellweger is still as reassuringly daffy and adorable as Bridget but layers in a relatable world weariness of a mourning woman just trying to get through a day, which works a charm in later scenes when she makes a decision about a man she might not have made in film one. Her suitors are less well-sketched – Roxster a contender for his looks in a wet t-shirt, Mr Wallaker merely by being age-appropriate – but Woodall and Ejiofor manage to breathe enough life into their roles. Meanwhile national treasures Thompson and Grant threaten to pocket the picture with brief scenes discussing lips and poetry readings respectively. Must put in diary. V. Good.
Words by JANE CROWTHER Pictures courtesy of Universal Pictures/StudioCanal Bridget Jones: Mad About the Boy is in UK cinemas now
Photographs by GREG WILLIAMS Interview by GREG WILLIAMS& JANE CROWTHER
A shy ‘lone wolf’, Mikey Madison is taking awards season by storm. Greg Williams hangs out with her in LA during a pivotal moment in her career.
Mikey Madison isn’t the first in her family to reach stardom or have her likeness loom over Sunset Boulevard on a giant billboard. Her grandmother’s cousin, CH Long, was the ‘Marlboro Man’ – a tough Texas cowboy who became the face of the cigarette brand and covered the August 1949 issue of Life magazine. Mikey owns a copy of the magazine and proudly shows me it when I arrive at her Los Angeles home one afternoon in November. The 25-year-old LA native is prepping for one of many stops on the awards circuit, the Elle Women In Hollywood awards – where she’ll be honoured for her searing role as an exotic dancer who won’t be ignored in Sean Baker’s Anora. CH Long and Mikey share more than DNA and a love of horses. As she has her hair and make-up done in her buzzy kitchen (her mum, sister and best friend are also prepping as guests at the event tonight), Mikey tells me about her cowboy relative. ‘He was debilitatingly shy, and didn’t like being photographed,’ she says of the Life magazine cover star. ‘But they were able to capture some interesting moments with him.’
The same is true of Mikey. After spending several days with her, I’m struck by just how different she is from the character she plays on screen. Ani, a Brighton Beach dancer and sex worker, is ballsy, loud; a big character who enjoys attention and will fight (and kick and scream) for it. Though Mikey has been working professionally as an actress since she was 16 (she was Max in five seasons of Better Things) and is able to fully inhabit psychotic killers (in Once Upon a Time… in Hollywood and 2022’s Scream) and a modern Cinderella (Anora), in person she’s quiet, shy, introspective, kind. The transformation of Mikey to Ani is striking; her performance so lived in, authentic and alive that the awards buzz started as soon as Anora premiered in Cannes last summer. Since then, the actor has been busy being feted, profiled, nominated – a supernova explosion. She invites me to spend some time with her at a point when her life is changing…
As Mikey and her family get ready for the Elle awards, she shows me around her house, which she’s curated in the four years she’s lived there to be her perfect personal space. Unused film-reel canisters from Anora sit on a sideboard in the lounge (‘Sean let me take them’), an Ani-style orange crocheted G-string covers her copy of Walt Whitman poetry on the coffee table that her handy dad hand crafted for her. (‘He also made the dining table, outdoor table and two of my side tables.’). Her impressive vinyl collection is meticulously alphabetised and her bookcase groans with volumes on artists such as Frank Lloyd Wright, Bob Dylan and Patti Smith. As she picks out Tiffany jewels to wear to the event, her rescue dog, a Chihuahua called Jam, runs around at her feet. Mikey loves animals and as she gets ready she talks of one day having a mini pony sanctuary – a place for unwanted miniature ponies to spend their days. Like her Marlboro Man relative, Mikey was a serious horsewoman before acting came calling – more of which later. For now, Mikey needs to get on her way to the Four Seasons and the Elle awards. Laughing, she lies down in the seat of the SUV so she doesn’t crease her delicate cream Ralph Lauren gown.
As we wind our way to Beverly Hills, Mikey tells me about the training she went through to physically be able to essay Ani in Anora, an accomplished pole dancer. ‘I still have my pole, but it’s in my closet because I was totally done, and the film was over. It’s so hard on your body,’ she says. ‘I did months of training, hours and hours a day. Hours of pole conditioning – you have to condition your inner thighs to grip onto the pole, because it’s very painful. We didn’t get to show what I was really able to do in the movie. [In training] I was walking on the ceiling. Would I be able to do it now? No, I would have to do more training. I haven’t done it in almost two years.’
I can’t just turn it on and off. I need to love what I do, and the characters that I play. And I know this about myself now. I’m trying to be very specific. I know that when the right project comes to me, I’ll know exactly what it is, and it’ll feel right to me
Writer/director Sean Baker wrote Anora with Mikey in mind after seeing her in Scream, making the offer to her agent immediately after walking out of the cinema. In preparation for the role, Mikey trained alongside exotic dancing expert Kennady Schneider and moved to New York to perfect her Brooklyn accent. In May 2024, Anora bowed at the Cannes Film Festival, wowing critics and netting the film the Palme d’Or. For Mikey, it was the first time she and Baker had shared their collaborative experience with the world. ‘It was very surreal. I’m not the kind of person who is able to process things immediately. I need to take time to understand exactly how I’m feeling and articulate it. I think it’s something that I’m still processing. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to get too excited for some reason, in case it goes away. But as an actress, it was a dream of mine to go to that festival, and to have our film be in that competition. It was very special.’
When we arrive at the Four Seasons, Mikey steps out of the car and into an atmosphere of celebration. After walking the red carpet she chats with Demi Moore, takes a picture with Saoirse Ronan, gossips with Julianne Moore. It seems to me that a sisterhood of actresses are welcoming her into the group. When we sit for the awards, Mikey’s mom beams with pride and rubs her back as a reel of her daughter’s work is played to the ballroom. Mikey blushes and looks down at her salad plate. At the table next to her, Tilda Swinton looks over encouragingly.
‘Every once in a while you see a performance that makes you sit up and pay attention and fall in love with an actor,’ extols Willem Dafoe onstage. He squints through the light at Mikey. ‘Such is Mikey’s performance in Anora – a beautiful, dramatic, comic performance that is funny, sly, sexy, athletic and touching…’ An actor who has worked with Baker before on The Florida Project, Dafoe is effusive in his praise, welcoming Mikey to the podium to applause. ‘I’ve always had the instinct to be an observer, always more someone on the outside looking in on life,’ she tells the room. ‘Playing Ani changed me, not just as an actress but as a person.’
The next day, away from the lights and the flashbulbs of the event, Mikey shows me round her tranquil garden featuring a massive 100-year-old cactus; ‘This is why I bought the house,’ she says. We wander into her favourite place in the house, her so-called ‘movie room’ – a cosy den with a projector and shelves filled with books and treasures. One of her prized possessions is a huge, old dictionary that she found in an estate sale and now flicks through to note the meaning of random words. Her movie collection is eclectic and large. ‘I spent a lot of time cultivating my space to where it felt like just for me, and only me. I’ll journal and stuff in here, which helps me process things a little bit more.’ As the daughter of two psychologists, it’s perhaps natural that she would journal to help sort through her experiences; her recent roles and meteoric rise to awards frontrunner must have required some processing. ‘I actually feel that as an actor I process things so quickly. You have an immediate reaction to something. I find that when I’m acting, a switch is completely flipped to where I’m so reactive, and I feel things immediately. It’s so grand and big. I don’t have that in my personal life. Maybe I’m just holding it in, in my life as Mikaela,’ she explains. ‘As an actor you get to experience so much, so many emotions, the most heightened feelings that you can feel that aren’t with this safety net underneath you. You’re making a movie. But in the moment, it’s real, and it feels real. You have this deep intimacy with people, and connection. I think that’s what I love about making movies – the connection and the intimacy that you get to have. I want that in all aspects of my life. My job is an emotional job. To me, there’s not a separation between my work and my personal life. It’s all blended together. That’s how I want it to be, because I think that’s how it makes it as meaningful as possible to me. I’ve been thinking about it a lot because people ask me why I wanted to be an actress.’
I actually feel that as an actor I process things so quickly. You have an immediate reaction to something. I find that when I’m an actor, a switch is completely flipped to where I’m so reactive, and I feel things immediately. It’s so grand and big. I don’t have that in my personal life. Maybe I’m just holding it in, in my life as Mikaela
As she straightens the books on the shelves, she considers the question now. ‘I grew up so shy, debilitatingly shy. I love people. But I’ve always been so scared of them. I was scared of that connection, and would avoid eye contact, even though I wanted it so badly. I wanted that feeling, that intimacy. I would see films or actresses living these incredible, interesting, dangerous lives on screen, and I would think that those emotions, to me, personally feel dangerous to experience for whatever reason. But I want that. I want to feel those things. And I want to do it through the character.’
I ask if acting gave her a portal to be the person that her shyer self wanted her to be. As ballsy as Anora, as fiercely aggressive as a Manson follower. ‘I think it gave me a portal to feel all the things that I was too scared to allow myself to feel, to connect with people on a deep level, a volatile level. I think at times, throughout my life, I’ve been quite passive. But I’ve never been that with the characters I play. I often play very antagonistic characters with a lot of fight, and that is not me. But I love that part of making movies – the connection. But then it’s also so devastating when it’s over. Because you fall in love with this character you’re playing. You embody her. You completely uproot your life, and go to this location, and the people you work with, they become your family and your friends or your onscreen lovers – and then it’s just over, one day. That’s so hard for me, to just walk away from that. I’ve fallen in love with people making movies – I know that happens – and when it’s over, I’m like, “What the fuck. How can that be it?” But it’s not my life. It’s the character’s life, you know?’ She bursts into laughter. ‘I assume I’m not the only one who has that experience. I mean, I think it takes a certain person to be an actor, but also I know people who can just turn it on and off. How do they do that? I don’t know. I have worked with people who have more of a Stanislavski method style of acting. It’s interesting to watch that. It’s not the way I work. I think it’s just more intuitive for me. It’s very emotion-based.’
I knew who Freud was when I was probably about 11 or 12… I’ve always had an understanding or a curiosity about people, and what makes them them, and how people’s brains work, and why they do certain things. I think I’m lucky that I grew up the way I did, because I think it’s probably one of the reasons I ended up being an actor
Later that day, we return to Beverly Hills for Mikey to do press for Anora, this time for the Golden Globes virtual press conference. She does breathing exercises with her fellow cast members before she sits for questions and wonders what Jam is doing alone at home. After the conference, there are more interviews as Mikey is asked about every aspect of the role. During promotion and awards season this is a daily routine. ‘Are you doing more press than you ever have done in your life?’ I ask. She nods and laughs, pretending to curl up and sleep in the elevator as we hustle to the next appointment. Within all of this attention, Mikey remains resolutely herself and I’m interested to understand where this groundedness comes from. The next day, I join her for breakfast at home as she makes vegan chocolate chip silver dollar pancakes. Cooking this breakfast is a comfort for her – it’s the first thing she learned to cook and she used to make blueberry pancakes for her Dad growing up. While wearing a Halloween machete on her head, dripping fake blood, Mikey mixes the batter and considers the special place she’s in right now – an actor in demand and in the process of choosing another project. One she’s hoping to fall in love with as much as she did Anora. ‘There are characters in scripts I’ve read, or people have approached me, and I would like to try to continue on that path of working with them,’ she says of possible prospects. She hasn’t, she says, worked since filming Anora. Purposefully. ‘I saved all my money from this TV show I did when I was younger. So I’m OK, you know? For me, because it’s such an emotional job, I can’t just turn it on and off. I need to love what I do, and the characters that I play. And I know this about myself now. I’m trying to be very specific. I know that when the right project comes to me, I’ll know exactly what it is, and it’ll feel right to me. But right now, I don’t know.’ A believer in manifestation, she’s trying to evoke a new opportunity by waiting, being watchful. ‘I manifest people reaching out to me. I think it’s powerful for me to write things down, and then I unconsciously work towards those things. It’s weird, because sometimes I’ve been thinking of an old friend from elementary school, and they’ll reach out to me a day later, and it’s so bizarre. It can’t just be a coincidence.’
I don’t think about myself in terms of being talented. I think that I can play a character in a deep, authentic way because I just know things about myself. If I commit to something, I’m able to tap into that particular person, and their life. The only thing I will say I’m talented at is cooking or baking. I like to feed other people, you know?
Is she manifesting a superhero movie? ‘I’ve never really acted with a green screen, and that, to me, is the biggest thing. Will I be able to connect with that? Because I like to connect with the environment. I want to feel where I am.’ She serves the pancakes and we sit down to eat. I suggest that she doesn’t appear to be motivated by money. ‘No. I just want to make enough money to have a ranch for my mini pony rescue,’ she laughs. ‘I don’t need a lot. I just want enough so that everybody feels good, and is happy. I don’t like excess. I never want a giant house. I like things like trinkets and little things, but it’s only because I’m a sentimental person. I like to fill my house with sentiment and things that make me feel a specific thing, or things from my travels. I didn’t grow up with excess. But then, when you have that sort of paycheque in front of you, that could change your life and your family’s life. How do you walk away from it, for the sake of creative integrity? I’ve never been in that position. But I can imagine that it would be difficult.’
Today, Mikey is trying on dresses for future events. She puts on a terracotta draped gown and tests it out by lounging on the couch. The Life magazine covered by her cowboy relative lies on the nearby table. She opens the magazine and reads one of C.H. Long’s quotes out from the feature ‘A Texan Holds Onto the Traditions of the West’ with photographs by Leonard McCombe. ‘I’ve had some horses,’ he says, ‘that I thought a lot more of than I do people.’ She smiles. Shyness is, she says, something of a family trait. ‘My mom is extremely shy. I asked my dad – I said, “Was I always shy?” And he said, “Yes. Even when you were a baby, you were shy.” Despite growing up in the dream-factory town, acting was not something she always aspired to. ‘I never thought that I might have a talent for it. It just felt like something that I really wanted to try. I had to try it. I don’t think about myself in terms of being talented. I think that I can play a character in a deep, authentic way because I just know things about myself. If I commit to something, I’m able to tap into that particular person, and their life. The only thing I will say I’m talented at is cooking or baking. I like to feed other people, you know?’
I’m interested to know where this sure sense of self comes from and so we hop in the car to head over the Hollywood hills to her parents’ house in the valley. This was the last home she lived in before she struck out for herself and started making an impression in cinema. She was 21 when she left. When we arrive at the house and let ourselves in we’re greeted by the family dog, Petal, a Chihuahua mix. ‘I love my silly, little Chihuahuas,’ Mikey says, lavishing love on the dog. ‘I’m getting another one, but it’s a big secret because nobody wants me to. They’re like, “You’re too busy to have another puppy.” But I can’t help it. I love them so much. I love their personality, and I love rescuing them.’
Both her parents are psychologists, with dad also pulling double duty as a psychiatrist. That and a busy house of five siblings (Mikey has a twin brother) is probably what has helped her stay level-headed in an industry that can chew up and spit out talent. ‘I knew who Freud was when I was probably about 11 or 12,’ Mikey admits. ‘I’ve always had an understanding or a curiosity about people, and what makes them them, and how people’s brains work, and why they do certain things. I think I’m lucky that I grew up the way I did, because I think it’s probably one of the reasons I ended up being an actor. I can’t judge my characters. I have to completely understand them. When I take on a character, I try not to think about it from a third-person point of view. So when I was trying to understand my character in Anora, it was really challenging to try to get to the core of her. I would write questions like someone else was asking her, “What kind of cigarettes do you smoke?” And I would answer.’
Mikey answered a lot of questions about Ani in Anora – she bought most of the character’s shoes, helped create the private dance she does (she gets a co-credit for choreography), chose the long, signature nails Ani favours, perfected the specific idiolect she speaks with. An audience member having watched the Brooklyn-accented Ani would be forgiven for being confused by Mikey’s real-life soft California cadence. ‘I’m such a California girl,’ she smiles. ‘I worked with a dialect coach, and she was great. I was like, “I just feel like it’s not specific enough.” Because I didn’t want to just sound like a classic New Yorker. I wanted it to have nuance. And so I went to Brighton Beach a month earlier than I needed to be for shooting, and I was listening to people. I was going to clubs, listening to girls. This one dancer/actress, Luna, who plays my character’s friend in the film, has this amazing voice. She had this really acute, modern way that a lot of young women speak that I love, and wanted to add into the film. I got to a place where I just felt like it lived inside of me, you could ask me to say anything, and it would just come out. I wouldn’t be reaching for certain sounds, because I think that’s the way, really, to kill a character.’ That embedding with sex workers in Brighton Beach clubs – she shadowed dancers, dressed like them – forged genuine friendships that led to Mikey hosting a screening of the film specifically for sex workers. ‘It’s one of the most important things in my life – female friendships, and my connection to other women. So it was easy for me to just connect to someone, woman to woman, even if you’re different, and you don’t understand your life. We were all just able to connect and I’ve made amazing friends.’
I was sitting on a horse before I could walk. My mom just put me in horseback riding class as an afterschool activity, and it became my whole life. I loved it. But when I was maybe 14, and we would do performances… it wasn’t fun anymore. There was a part of me that wanted something deeper – some deeper connection
Ani struggles with love in Baker’s film; what it really is, how to show it – especially in the much-debated final scene of the movie. On the ride over to the house, I had asked Mikey if she was in love herself. With trademark honesty, she answered: ‘No, I’m slightly heartbroken at the moment. In a fucked-up way, it’s kind of a good feeling, too, because at least you’re feeling something – something strong. I know that I love because I feel heartbroken. I know that I can love someone deeply. I would rather be heartbroken than to just feel fine or OK.’ She admitted to wanting ‘lots of kids, and a husband, and a white picket fence’. I can see the inspiration in her family home, full of photos and trinkets from the years of five children growing up there. Outside by the pool there’s a set of gymnastic rings, and Mikey playfully hangs from them.
Upstairs, she shows me her old bedroom, a space that’s important to her in her artistic journey. It’s unchanged from when she left home, complete with baby hats, a white metal bedstead and toddler pictures. It was here that she initially dreamt of being a professional dressage rider. ‘I was sitting on a horse before I could walk. My mom just put me in horseback riding class as an afterschool activity, and it became my whole life. I loved it. But when I was maybe 14, and we would do dressage performances… it wasn’t fun anymore. There was a part of me that wanted something deeper – some deeper connection. I don’t know if I ever thought it was an option, like, “Oh, I’ll have a career in horseback riding, or I’ll have a career as an actress.” I just knew I needed to try this. But I knew that if I tried it, I’d have to put all of myself into it, and I need to stop horseback riding.’
Taking acting classes led to her being cast at 16 as Max in FX’s Better Things, and to roles in small indie films. Around the same time, she developed an interest with the Manson family, fascinated by events that happened not far from her own house. When Quentin Tarantino was auditioning for Manson girls in his take on the story, Mikey felt she was born to play one of the roles. ‘I had no experience in film, but I love Tarantino. In the garage, I made some makeshift art studio and I decided to make a painting like I’m a Manson girl who went on an acid trip with Manson, and made this painting on the acid trip. I wrote this poem about weaving a blanket together. I cut off a big, old piece of my hair, and sewed it into the painting. I was very interested in vintage clothing. So all my clothes were from the ’60s and ’70s. So I wore this very bohemian ’60s dress. I was barefoot, and had a lot of jewellery. I went into the audition, and I read with Quentin, and I gave him this painting.’ She knew she had the role when Tarantino recalled her and the painting was on the wall of his office. She joined an ensemble cast including Brad Pitt, Leonardo DiCaprio, Margot Robbie, Austin Butler, Margaret Qualley and Lena Dunham, and filmed in the Hollywood Hills close to the real once-home of Sharon Tate. She made quite the impression as Susan Atkins, the wannabe murderer who memorably gets a tin of dog food in the face from Pitt and a torching from DiCaprio.
‘Being in a Tarantino film really opens doors for a lot of things,’ she notes as she hops up on Mum’s kitchen counter. ‘People watch it. Directors take you seriously.’ As we take a walk in the nearby hills along a track that Mikey has followed hundreds of times while growing up there, we return to the concept of such a private, shy person wanting to be incredibly vulnerable as an actor. ‘I was a big daydreamer as a kid, and I still am, but I would daydream about being different versions of myself; versions where I wasn’t shy, or I had lots of friends, or I did interesting, crazy things, and felt big emotions. I do think that me being an actor, I’m able to do those things. It gave me the feeling of not being shy. But then a part of me loves being alone. I’m very much just a lone wolf kind of person. It’s a contradiction.’
I don’t look at myself on social media. I don’t have any of that. I don’t Google anything. I don’t recognise it. So it’s always a bit of a shock to have that projected onto me. I have trouble saying it’s ‘uncomfortable’ because I would never want someone to think that I’m ungrateful. I understand the focus on the character. But me – why?
As we walk and the sun settles to golden hour, I ask her what a great day would be for her. She answers without hesitation, perhaps because in business of promotion and campaigning, personal days are rare. ‘Sleep in. Spend the day with my pets, my friends, my family. I’ll probably hang out with my brother. Go see a movie. Cooking, and eating good food. And being comfortable and cosy.’ Awards season is a marathon – how has she felt about it? A reserved person needing to go out and perform on stages, carpets and at events? ‘You know, I don’t do things to win awards. Obviously, it’s very flattering when it happens, and the conversation is nice. But I feel like it’s not a competition to make movies. It’s a celebration.
I understand that people are curious about what it feels like, and it excites people. And I recognise what a privilege it is to be in this position. But it is strange, and I feel that I have nothing to protect myself. I love talking to people about the film. It makes me happy, and I want people to see it. But it’s very vulnerable, to put yourself in that position. I’m excited to get back to the acting part of my job, you know?’
I was a big daydreamer as a kid, and I still am, but I would daydream about being different versions of myself; versions where I wasn’t shy, or I had lots of friends, or I did interesting, crazy things, and felt big emotions. I do think that me being an actor, I’m able to do those things
As dusk falls, we drive back over the hill to Hollywood. We swing by Sweet Greens salad restaurant for food (‘Very LA of us!’ she jokes) and over her vegan bowl Mikey returns to the idea of protecting herself. ‘I don’t look at myself on social media. I don’t have any of that. I don’t Google anything. I don’t recognise it. So it’s always a bit of a shock to have that projected onto me. I have trouble saying it’s “uncomfortable” because I would never want someone to think that I’m ungrateful. I understand the focus on the character. But me – why?’
Her humble nature is further evident in the ease with which she touches up her make-up in the restaurant mirror and changes into eveningwear in the public restrooms. We drive down La Brea as the billboards are lit up, see her feet-high face on the Anora poster towering over the street. She’s big news in every way. ‘It’s not really me, though, is it? It’s a version of me,’ she says. ‘I think I dissociate from that. I think I have to, and I think it’s a defence mechanism. It’s protection. I’m a trusting person. I generally believe people when they say things. But recently, a lot of people have been reaching out to me, like friends I haven’t spoken to in a long time. But I don’t think of myself as famous. I’ve never felt that, and I still don’t feel that now, because I can’t grasp what that feeling is. Is that a feeling, or is it just how people perceive you?’
I can tell when somebody is genuinely looking out for me, and I feel it. I feel it with a lot of actresses that I’ve met recently… I’ll see them, and we’ll lock eyes, and they’ll immediately kind of swoop in, grab my hand, and walk me up the steps. I can feel that they’re being protective. It’s comforting, and it’s nice, it feels safe, and they see me
We drive on to the Chateau Marmont and she curls up on a bench by the pool that has seen so many icons swim in it. I remind her of the company she was in at the Elle awards; standing on stage with actors such as Tilda Swinton, Julianne Moore, Saoirse Ronan, Zoë Saldaña, Selena Gomez and Karla Sofía Gascón. She has officially arrived. ‘I mean, it’s a nice feeling. I’m intuitive. My job is about meeting people, and deciphering emotion. I can tell when somebody is genuinely looking out for me, and I feel it. I feel it with a lot of actresses that I’ve met recently… I’ll see them, and we’ll lock eyes, and they’ll immediately kind of swoop in, grab my hand, and walk me up the steps. I can feel that they’re being protective. It’s comforting, and it’s nice, it feels safe, and they see me.’ Mikey Madison, despite that shyness she shares with the Marlboro Man, is ready to be seen.
Anora is in cinemas now Mikey wears Bottega Veneta, Chloé, Lanvin, Louis Vuitton, Ralph Lauren and Tiffany jewels
Hanging out and talking with Mikey Madison over a couple of days as she cooked breakfast pancakes, attended events and revisited her childhood home was a unique experience – and a perfect example of what Hollywood Authentic represents. Fiercely talented yet shy and incredibly honest, Mikey shared the artist at the core of her work without artifice. And it was a fascinating moment for me; I was watching a star being born. This issue is all about capturing rising raw talent. Monica Barbaro, who I last photographed at the Golden Globes during Top Gun: Maverick’s awards run, is now a formidable awards contender as Joan Baez in A Complete Unknown. Leo Woodall, who shot into our consciousness with The White Lotus, is now Bridget Jones’ possible new romantic interest. Malachi Kirby, a BAFTA winner with Mangrove, is now headlining a new binge-watch obsession. They say that luck is just a case of preparation meets opportunity. But it’s also about integrity and feeling sure that when opportunity knocks, you never miss.
Luca Guadagnino’s heady depiction of ’50s Mexico City in Queer is as seductive as the love affair at the heart of the tale. Hollywood Authentic celebrates a metropolis with a rich cinematic history and a spicy selection of attractions.
The last time we saw Daniel Craig on screen in Mexico City, he was striding across the rooftops along its main avenue. And death was lurking on the street below – in the form of gaudily coloured floats and giant cigar-chomping skeletons; a ‘Day of the Dead’ parade in full flow.
Death was on Craig’s mind as well, through the crosshairs of his rifle. As James Bond in Spectre, Craig sought men to kill. Fast forward a decade, and he is seeking men for thrills – in Luca Guadagnino’s opulent, delirious adaptation of William S Burroughs’ Queer, playing a thinly veiled cinematic version of the American writer and poet.
Part of the ‘Beat Generation’ of anarchic wordsmiths who helped to redefine the limits of literature in the mid-20th century, Burroughs wrote about his post-war ex-pat experiences in Mexico City, in a novella also titled Queer. Its pages were so crammed with content that would have been deemed shocking at the time that it went unpublished until 1985. This was a chaotic period in the writer’s life. Burroughs had fled the United States in 1949, in the wake of a drugs raid on his New Orleans home that had raised the prospect of jail time. Addicted to heroin, he tried to carve out a new life in Mexico City; bar-hopping, picking up lovers and ultimately, in September 1951, killing his wife, Joan Vollmer, during a riotous night at a friend’s apartment. He was, he said, attempting a ‘William Tell stunt’ of shooting a glass (rather than an apple) placed on top of her head – only to miss the target and hit his spouse. Whether this was (as he claimed) drunken high-jinks gone tragically wrong, or a pre-meditated act (he was convicted of manslaughter in absentia), remains a matter of debate. Burroughs made a run for it again before the case could come to trial, ultimately wandering the Ecuadorian Amazon (an ‘adventure-quest’ that the movie covers) in search of the psychedelic drug yagé (ayahuasca).
Guadagnino has been obsessed with the novel since reading it in his youth. In his vicarious hands, Burroughs’ tale of ‘William Lee’, a drink-addled romantic, comes vibrantly to grubby-gorgeous life, as Craig’s crumpled-linen barfly pursues a young naval veteran, Eugene Allerton (a barely disguised avatar of Burroughs’ lover Adelbert Marker), played by Drew Starkey. A viewer will no doubt want to head straight to the airport and Mexico City after the end titles, thirsty for mezcal, sultry temperatures, the Baroque architecture and the sound of mariachi bands. But Guadagnino’s sleight of hand is so subtle that you scarcely notice one particularly important fact: that everything was filmed either on Italian soundstages (at the iconic Cinecittà Studios in Rome), or in Ecuador, where the capital Quito offered a splendidly convincing impression of its Mexican counterpart.
This, itself, is quite the feat, because Mexico City is hard to impersonate. It ranks as the biggest city in North America (and the sixth biggest on the planet); a melting pot of 22 million people. And it is fascinating when caught on camera. Even if Guadagnino’s lens is dealing in misdirection, plenty of other directors have cast the city as a star attraction. Its credit list over the last three decades has been impressive. And diverse – sometimes showing the city as an affluent jewel; at others, scratching at base layers of dirt and crime.
Y tu mamá también (2001) – Alfonso Cuarón’s coming-of-age masterpiece – pitches the city as an enclave of monied insouciance; a place that bored teenagers Julio (Gael García Bernal) and Tenoch (Diego Luna) cannot wait to leave, on an impromptu road trip to the Oaxaca coast with an alluring older woman. Cuarón repeated this trick in Roma (2018), his Oscar-winning dissection of family life in the well-to-do titular neighbourhood. But here, the world beyond the driveway is darker. Set in 1971, the plot draws on ‘El Halconazo’, that year’s brutal massacre of student demonstrators by paramilitary group Los Halcones.
This bleaker seam was mined by Tony Scott in his 2004 thriller Man On Fire – sending Denzel Washington into Mexico City as an ex-CIA bodyguard tasked with the protection of a rich man’s daughter (scenes were filmed in the city’s Estudios Churubusco, as well as surrounding districts). And Baz Luhrmann opted for an on-edge Mexico City in his 1996 tour-de-force Romeo + Juliet, using it as one of the real-life settings for his fictional Verona Beach. The Capulet mansion where the lovers (Leonardo DiCaprio, Claire Danes) meet is the Chapultepec Castle, the former royal palace that, as of 1939, has been Mexico’s National Museum of History, perched on a hilltop that was sacred to the Aztecs.
The shadows are perhaps lengthiest in 2000’s Amores perros – the first chapter of the ‘Trilogy of Death’ directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu. Here, three seemingly distinct tales – of a barrio teen (Bernal), a model (Goya Toledo) and a hitman (Emilio Echevarría) – converge around a car crash. While several scenes were filmed in high-end neighbourhoods such as La Condesa and Lomas de Chapultepec, Iñárritu’s commitment to authenticity saw the tape roll in some of the city’s more deprived districts.
Such movies are a demonstration that, in a metropolis the size of Mexico City, there will always be light and shade; want colliding with wealth. But they are also evidence of the city’s strong directorial bloodline. Both born in its midst in the early 1960s, Cuarón and Iñárritu are just the latest visionaries to have emerged from the city’s fertile cultural soil. There have been many other ‘chilangos’ behind the camera – feted filmmakers Luis Estrada, Carlos Enrique Taboada and Juan Bustillo Oro, to name just three.
For all the occasional uncomfortable truths told by Cuarón and Iñárritu, Mexico City offers an upbeat (and safe) experience for visitors keen to embrace its charms – and a more immersive version of Mexico than that found on the beaches of Cabo or Cancun. Particularly amid the important sights of the Centro Historico – and in the more salubrious districts, where tourists are most likely to put down their luggage.
At root, the city is still Tenochtitlan, the pulse of the Aztec Empire, which was conquered by the Spanish crown in the first half of the 16th century. The main square, Zócalo, was also the centrepiece of the indigenous city, and its function remains unchanged. Its echoes are noisy, its past never invisible or inaudible. The National Palace, on its east side, is the seat of the Mexican government, but much of its masonry is a recycling of the palace of Moctezuma II, the Aztec emperor whose reign (1502-1520) coincided with the arrival of the conquistadors. Similarly, the Metropolitan Cathedral – a Gothic pile, constructed in stages between 1573 and 1813, which stands on the north flank of the plaza – is also hiding a ‘secret’; it occupies some of the footprint of the Templo Mayor. This was one of the holiest sites in Tenochtitlan, devoted to Tlaloc (the Aztec god of agriculture and rain) and Huitzilopochtli (the god of war). You can still see its foundations next to the church.
There are more recent wonders, too. The Palacio de Bellas Artes – close to the leafy expanse of Alameda Central park – is an art museum as striking as the treasures inside it; a giddy mixture of Art Deco and Art Nouveau, crafted between 1904 and 1934. Its focus falls upon the same century; star exhibits include murals by Jorge González Camarena and Diego Rivera. The latter’s much more celebrated wife – Frida Kahlo – is also present.
Retail therapy can be sought in a range of tempting places – the department stores on the broad street of 20 de Noviembre in the Centro Historico; the haute-couture boutiques that decorate the Avenida Presidente Masaryk, where it sweeps through gilded Polanco.
Tastebuds can also be tantalised. While it is endlessly possible to lean on local staples – tortillas, tamales et al – 2024 brought the publication of a first Michelin Guide to Mexico, and with it, an even brighter spotlight on two of the capital’s most acclaimed restaurants. Pujol (pujol.com.mx), in Polanco, is the brainchild of Enrique Olvera – offering a modern slant on traditional Mexican dishes, all delicate tacos and palpable finesse. It is one of just two restaurants in the guide to have been handed two stars; the other is its Polanco neighbour Quintonil (quintonil.com), where chef-couple Alejandra Flores and Jorge Vallejo have also reinvented the national cuisine, with nine-course tasting feasts and fabulous mezcals.
Sleep can also be stylish and elegant. Perhaps at Condesa DF (condesadf.com), in the lovely neighbourhood of the same name – a design hotel, slotted into a neoclassical 1928 apartment building, whose rooms have been shaped by Mexican architect Javier Sanchez and Iranian-French interior designer India Mahdavi. Elsewhere, the St Regis Mexico City is a well known silhouette on the skyline (marriott.com) and boasts a perfect location. Its in-house spa deals in widescreen views of the cityscape, while its pool floats above the hubbub on the 15th floor; its King Cole Bar – one of the city’s best options for cocktails if you want to recreate Queer’s tippling – is a softly lit refuge from the commotion of Paseo de la Reforma outside.
If that busy boulevard (Paseo de la Reforma is an equivalent of Paris’ Champs-Élysées) looks familiar, it should. This was the very street catapulted to global attention by that spectacular Spectre opening sequence. Even if, again, sleight of hand was at play. Like Guadagnino’s CDMX (local slang for Mexico City), the ‘Dia de los Muertos’ carnival displayed with such verve was actually an intoxicating invention for cinema. No such event existed in reality. But it has since – by popular demand – been slotted into the city’s calendar, for visitors wanting to taste the reality of what they saw onscreen. In Mexico City, real life and cinema are so tightly entwined that one frequently influences the other.
Oscar winner Jamie Lee Curtis tells Hollywood Authentic about her hands-free life, her baby impression and the magic that surrounds her.
How important is a little bit of nonsense now and then to you? I think I’ve lost my sense of nonsense. As I get closer to the end of my life, the seriousness of all that encompasses every human being’s and living creature’s daily existence and their fight to survive always seems to take precedence. I’d love a little nonsense.
What, if anything, makes you believe in magic? I look at my life daily and see the magic that surrounds me. From the work I get to do and the people I get to do it with, to the people who call me ‘mother’, ‘wife’, ‘sister’, ‘friend’, and the look between me and my little rescue dog, magic is everywhere.
What was your last act of true cowardice? I’m pretty brave.
What single thing do you miss most when you’re away from home? My children are grown and have their own lives and my husband is very self-sufficient, but my little dog, Runi, and I have a very close bond and I really miss him.
Do you have any odd habits or rituals? I’m a fairly routinised person. I have systems. I’m well organised. I’m habitual in both good and bad ways.
What is your party trick? I can make the sound of a newborn baby that can make breastfeeding women lactate!
What is your mantra? Teams Make Dreams.
What is your favourite smell? I have worn Oscar de la Renta’s signature perfume since I was 19 years old. My friends always hug me and tell me that I smell like me.
What do you always carry with you? My bandolier is the game changer that removed the need for me to carry a purse. Second would be my Bottega lanyard that carries my keys. I am a hands-free gal.
What is your guilty pleasure? I am fond of chocolate-covered pretzels.
Who is the silliest person you know? My husband is the funniest person I have ever met.
What would be your least favourite way to die? Asleep or drowning.
What’s your idea of heaven? My life is my heaven.
Award-winning actress Jamie Lee Curtis made her film debut as Laurie Strode in Halloween and has revisited the role throughout her career while also impressing in movies such as Trading Places, A Fish Called Wanda, True Lies, Freaky Friday, Knives Out and last year’s Everything Everywhere All At Once – which won her an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress. The daughter of Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis, the Californian native has always embraced her standing as a ‘scream queen’ and has written a number of children’s books and a graphic novel. She can currently be seen in The Last Showgirl and has completed filming on Freakier Friday.
Photograph by GREG WILLIAMS The Last Showgirl is out now, Freakier Friday is out 8 August
*Arguably one of the most memorable (and quotable) scenes in 1971’s Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory is when Mr Salt mumbles, ‘It’s a lot of nonsense,’ to which Wonka replies, in a sing-song voice, ‘A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men.’